Flying High
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: Desmond's always wanted to be a sky pirate-instead of an assassin. He may just get his chance. Steampunk!AU
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so, with the stress of all things college and all things stressful, I decided I didn't need to do NaNoWriMo this year. Instead, I will focus on writing relaxing stories. Like this one.**

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><p>He sighed, drumming his fingers on the elegantly decorated table and pulling at the embroidered bird mask his brothers insisted he wear. He looked out at all the people dancing on the floor, wishing it was over with as he sighed again. He hated parties like this. He wanted to go home and sleep the night away. It was truly a beautiful hall, filled with tables and chandeliers, expensive drinks and food, and he just wanted to take a nap. He <em>hated<em> parties.

Of all the things his brothers allowed him to do, parties were the one thing he hated. They kept him under strict lock and key, training him to be an assassin. He didn't want to be an assassin—he wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to feel the air whip around his face and watch the ground race below him. He didn't tell his older brother, Ezio, that he kept a stash of newspapers with stories of sky pirates below his bed. He didn't tell Altair about wanting to own a ship. And he most certainly didn't tell them about his fantasies about _Zeus_.

His lips curled lazily, and he pushed the mask up regardless of the masquerade. He wanted to meet Zeus sometime. The man was a serious sky pirate, for hire for the most dangerous jobs. He was a master at all things illegal, and not the Empire, not the surrounding countries, no one could stop him. There were rumors he was inhuman, an experiment that escaped from many, many centuries ago from the crumbled Gentek company. He could only imagine just what the man would be like, cold and sociopathic, and his ship (the Blacklight) would glide like the best, black and matching with the night sky, able to vanish in a heartbeat. He inhaled sharply, his heart pounding at the thought. He could—no, he stopped himself there, sighing again, disappointedly, and kept doodling with his finger on the tablecloth.

Ezio had often wondered if his lack of motivation was because he was still a virgin. Desmond never told him it was because he was a dreamer. Altair had often said they needed to find him a good woman. Desmond never said it was Zeus that plagued his filthiest thoughts.

With another dramatic sigh, as if someone was around to hear, he folded one arm under his chin and stretched the other across the table, closing his eyes. The music was excellent—perfect for falling asleep, which he had every intention of doing. He exhaled slowly, slowing his breathing and wishing he were anywhere but at the table, and he slowly found black taking over his thoughts as the orchestra filled his dreams with visions of the ship he would one day own. He had hardly started thinking about her when he was jolted awake by the sound of a chair moving.

"My apologies."

He blinked, his eyes drawn toward the mask on the man's face. It was black velvet, embroidered with gold, flat against his face. His skin was so pale, contrasting sharply with the colors. He was done up in an extraordinary suit, something from a far off country. The layers were intricately tied and buttoned, laced and buckled. Stark white gloves clung to big hands, and he found himself staring as he took in the man. With a flush, he ripped his gaze away and looked back at the tablecloth.

"Is someone sitting here?"

He looked to the seat. Ezio was sitting there, and he would be pissed if someone else was sitting in his seat. Of course, Ezio had also said to never deny beauty a chance to sit with him, and the man was _gorgeous_, so, by his brother's standards, he shouldn't let this opportunity pass him up.

"Nope."

The man gave him a skeptical gaze, and he quirked an eyebrow. It was then he noticed the crystal, cold blue eyes staring at him.

"You hesitated."

"So?"

"There was someone sitting here."

"They don't matter. 'Sides, they won't come back from the dance floor for a long time."

The man shook his head and sat down gracefully. "Thank you."

"Hell, thank you. I don't even want to be here. Now I have company at least."

"I wondered."

"Huh?"

"If you didn't want to be here."

"It was that noticeable?" Good, perhaps Ezio would notice.

"Masks should be worn on the face, not the head. What's your name?"

"Desmond Miles, yours?" he asked as he pulled his mask back down.

"Alex Mercer."

There was silence for a little bit before he found his eyes drawn back to the man again, taking in every detail, every inch, and he realized he was envisioning this man as Zeus. He flushed: this man was certainly worthy of a title like that. He could see him prowling a sky ship, stealing materials and souls alike. He felt a small shudder go down his spine, and he looked away quickly when the man looked back at him.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," he murmured, more interested in willing the heating of his blood away. Even the man's voice was alluring. He dared a glance back up when he saw the man staring at him, smirking, and he scowled. "What?"

"Would you like to take a walk?"

Desmond blinked. Actually, a walk sounded great—anywhere but here. He nodded and rose. "Sure. Where to?"

"Around the palace, perhaps?"

He sighed, relieved. "Sure. Let's go."

He found Alex to be companionable, quiet, occasionally interjecting with a little bit of commentary about an artifact or a piece of artwork on display, usually about how much it would fetch on the black market. He found himself smiling slightly.

"Are you an auction appraiser or something?" he asked.

The man scoffed. "No."

His breath hitched a little bit, and he stopped in the hallway. That left only one other option in his mind. He watched the man meet his gaze, and he tried to contain himself. "A sky pirate?"

The man stared at him a while before his lips curled upward, and Desmond's eyes grew wide as the smirk grew.

"I was hoping."

Desmond would never have to imagine Zeus again. He was convinced this was his flesh and blood. He was going to have a field day next time he needed to jerk off. This man was _everything_ he had ever hoped for. He let himself stare, watching as the man walked over and pushed the mask off and onto the floor. His eyes widened more, and the man chuckled.

"Is this a fantasy of yours?"

He felt the man grab his chin gently and pull him in for a kiss, and Desmond eagerly grabbed his head, closing the distance eagerly, and damned if it didn't feel wonderful, all the way across the hall, and into a room, and on the bed, and he was never going to ever sleep again if he kept imagining _Alex_ doing _that_ just one more time with his hips.

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><p><strong>So... should I continue? Don't worry: the sequel to <em>Volacious<em> is coming along. It's all ready as long as the other, and I'm only halfway done. e.e**


	2. Chapter 2

He woke the next morning, stretching out and wincing as sharp pain shot up his back. His eyes flew open, and he realized that it wasn't his house. These sheets were not his: this room was not his. Images came flooding back from last night, and he grinned, sitting up to _feel_ the proof race up his spine again. His grin grew, and he clambered out of the bed, ready to go find his brothers in the palace and tell them about what happened. He was fully dressed (the man must have done that for him), and every step hurt, but it felt _amazing_. He exited the room, stumbling slightly when the floor lurched. He looked around and saw narrow metal halls, the windows—he pushed his face against the glass before he knew what he was doing.

The ground was miles below him, the clouds below him, and he could see wings moving in and out of the clouds. His eyes grew wide: he was on a ship. He watched the land move quickly below him for several minutes, then pulled his gaze away: there was so much to explore. With a short glance, he walked toward the front of the ship, pushing open the door at the far end. He peeked inside, looking at all the gizmos and gadgets.

"Goddamnit, novice! I told you not to—"

Desmond's mind went into overdrive when the pilot turned around. It was Hawkeye. Rumor had had it he died in an explosion years ago—several years after Zeus came to be. He was a fierce fighter and an excellent pilot, had a sharp wit, and was known for crankiness. Desmond had to remind himself to breathe as the man gave him a thorough once-over. Here he was, in the presence of the long-dead Hawkeye. And to think the only thing different about him from the newspaper pictures he had was the missing arm. He had survived an explosion and lost just his arm. The man was wearing the same goggles from the pictures, the same jackets, same boots, same _everything, _and he still had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He was dreaming. He had to be. He was standing in the presence of Hawkeye.

"You're the kid he picked up?"

He opened his mouth to respond, and when he couldn't, he nearly fainted from the disapproving look he was given and the lazy curl of smoke from the cigarette.

"You're pathetic. Mooning over a has-been sky pirate."

"I told you that he would know who you are."

He whipped around to see Alex coming in, dressed in the rumored jacket that Zeus was said to have worn, and Desmond could feel his brain short-circuiting as he watched the man walk in. Alex was Zeus. He had been right. He had been fucked by _Zeus_ and lived. He was in _Zeus' _ship and talking to _Zeus and Hawkeye._

"We have a fan, Malik."

The pilot rolled his eyes, turning back to the dashboard. "He's an idiot. Fantasizing over a bunch of wanted sky pirates."

"I think it's cute," he heard rasped from behind him, and he turned to—

The last thing he saw, after recognizing _Mother,_ another sadistic and infamous pirate, was the floor. He woke curled under the covers of a soft bed, his mind reeling. That was the best dream he had ever had. And they sounded so real. He couldn't believe he had dreamed he had slept with _Zeus_ and seen _Zeus, Hawkeye, and Mother_ all on the same ship. Ezio and Altair were going to have a field day with his tale. He needed to get out of the palace bed and find them. They were probably freaking out. His imagination had really done a number this time.

"Are you awake now?" he heard rasped, and he jumped, yelping, and winced.

He pulled the covers from his face to find himself staring straight into the crazy brown eyes of _Mother_. The Mother. The Mother of Zeus and of the rise of fierce sky pirating. He blinked, his eyes wide, watching as she lifted a hand up to his cheek and smiled in a demented way. Her teeth were horrid, and her red hair was a complete mess. Her clothes were dirty and worn, and she pulled him into a hug.

"My son did well," she hissed, pulling him close.

He was paralyzed. He was still dreaming. He was probably passed out in a gutter somewhere in real life. Or in a hospital. Mother was hugging him. The fiercest, nastiest sky pirate known for _several hundred years_ was hugging him. He was going to die of a heart attack.

"You are adorable," she rasped, although it sounded slightly like a squeal. "You are a good boy."

He found himself hugging her back (he didn't even remember when he had), and staring, wide-eyed, as he felt the beat of her heart beneath her chest and the warmth radiating from her. She was real. He was on a ship with the nastiest of sky pirates, and still not dead. He probably was dead, and he just didn't know it yet. It was funny how the mind worked.

Abruptly, she let go and walked out of the room, disappearing in a flash of her grey jumpsuit, and Desmond was left staring after the door. After several minutes of wide-eyed silence, he groaned, cradling his head in his hands and rocking slightly, ignoring the burn in his backside as he tried to rationalize himself. There was no way this was happening in real life. Ezio and Altair had every right to be concerned about him. He needed to start taking his medications again: it was probably time for a refill. His brothers were going to kill him. He was finally going crazy, just like their dead brother, Darien, who referred to himself as Sixteen before he died. Desmond was going to end up just like him—maybe they wouldn't be too mad he hadn't been taking his medications, now that he had learned his lesson. He sat like that for a long time, rocking on the bed and thinking about how there had to be some way to contact his family.

With a long-suffering sigh, he swung his legs out of the bed, standing up carefully, the burn in his lower back not so pleasant now that he realized it was all probably just an illusion he had, and stretched slowly and carefully. The reality of disappointment hung over him as he opened the door and stepped out to find a small child in the hallway, staring at him. The child had blue eyes and brown hair, and a small blue ball in his hands. Desmond blinked, watching the child before he held out the ball.

"Play?"

Desmond blinked again. If he were going crazy, he should probably enjoy it. These narrow halls were probably just a strong hallucination anyway—he was probably wandering the palace lost. He was going the same route as Darien. The boy smiled when he realized he was going to play ball with him, and Desmond felt a small curl of his lips. At least he would go crazy happily. They bounced the ball back and forth for several minutes before Desmond decided to ignore the pain in his back and show him some cool tricks he had learned with a hacky-sack. He grinned, twirling the ball on one finger and watching the child's eyes grow wide, before tossing it in the air and performing a series of tricks, kicking it over his shoulders, rolling it across his arms and chest. The child loved it, soft gasps and tiny giggles filling up the hallway as he inched closer and closer.

"Me too," the boy whispered, and Desmond caught the ball, crouching over and gesturing him forward.

The boy hesitated, but eventually complied. When the boy got close, Desmond jumped in surprise when he hugged him. There was a tingly sensation across his skin at the contact, and he found himself smiling, wrapping his arm around the boy and scooping him up. The boy looked excited, wrapping his tiny arms around his neck and hugging him again. At least he felt loved by his delusions.

"Mama!"

He laughed, kissing the boy's cheek but froze when he heard several voices behind him.

"I'll be damned, Mercer."

"The idiot's touching the kid?"

"He's human."

He could feel panic rise in his thoughts, and he held the boy a little tighter, who seemed to think it was all for cuddling. The tingly sensation spread across every area he was touching the boy, and he _knew_ his death was coming. He was going to go the same route as his brother. He held the boy even tighter as he saw someone come around from behind him, and he jerked when he saw the same jacket that Zeus wore, the same face as the man who fucked him. He was absolutely crazy. Alex gave him a thorough once over, and he stepped back a bit, trying to hide the tremble in his arms as he held the boy.

"How are you still alive?"

He took a second to register the words, then inhaled sharply. Even his illusions knew he was crazy. "I—I don't know. I won't be much longer. I'm going fucking crazy. I should've listened to my brothers and taken my medications, but I wasn't paying any attention to them because I thought that _surely _I wouldn't go the same route as Darien, but it turns out I am, and it's only a matter of time before I kill myself and—"

His voice was muffled by the large hand that clamped itself across his lips. "You're trembling."

He blinked, about ready to piss his pants because he was going crazy, and he needed to get out of here to get his medications since he _was_ the blood brother of Darien.

"Are you in pain?"

He blinked again as the hand was removed. He stared at Alex, unsure of what was going on. He must have already been dead. Alex frowned.

"Are you in pain?"

He jerked and shook his head rapidly. "N-n-no! A little tingly, but that's all! I swear! Oh, God, even my illusions think I'm supposed to be dead."

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was all just, he supposed. He hadn't been taking the medications for over two weeks now, and while he had been feeling extremely paranoid (save for the party, because he had been dreaming, and when he dreamed, he didn't feel paranoid) and day-dreaming much more, this was all ridiculous. Maybe he should just save himself the trip to hell and commit suicide right now.

"What's this about medications?"

"I shouldn't have expected something not real to—"

Alex growled. "Let's get something straight: I'm real—"

Desmond rolled his eyes. Of course Alex—Zeus—was real, and he wasn't Darien's brother.

"—like the rest. What's this about medication?"

Desmond sighed, feeling more than a little irritated. If this is what Darien went through, then he could finally empathize. "I'm on medications for delusions, illusions, and paranoia, and my overall lack of ability to stop daydreaming about sky piracy. My brother had the same problems, only he was never medicated, and he committed suicide after going off his rocker. So, by those standards," he growled, pointing at Alex and each person in turn, "you aren't real. And neither is this kid, Hawkeye, Mother, or the Specialist, because I haven't taken my medications in over two weeks now, so I've finally reached the point of no return. I'm in such a fucking illusion there's—"

"This is not a delusion, novice," he heard Hawkeye say as he walked out, the line of smoke trailing from the side of his mouth as he tapped his cigarette and let the ash fall.

"I didn't say 'delusion,' stupid," Desmond snarled, getting more and more irritated. No wonder Darien often had fits of rage while he was crazy, "I said, 'illusion.'"

"He got you good there, Al-Sayf," he heard from behind him, and he saw the Specialist come walking into his view.

The man was a trigger happy lunatic who loved a fight and a challenge. He had been a military man before he had been blown up in the explosion that crumbled Gentek. Go figure he'd be dreamed up on this ship. He had a pack of cigarettes tucked into a pocket on his jumpsuit. Desmond smacked his forehead: the things he imaged sometimes.

"I'm crazy. I'm fucking crazy. They're gonna lock me up in the asylum once I get back to my brothers, and then I'll—"

"We should get him his medications," Alex murmured, and Desmond set the child down, grabbing his head and rocking as he crouched in the narrow hall.

"—end up believing I live on a ship with the few people I've dreamed of meeting for _years_—"

"What's gotten into you?" The Specialist asked.

"—and that I _actually_ lived to tell the tale, and they'll have to keep me from anything, really, because _everything_ is a weapon used right—"

"I kidnapped him, didn't I?" Alex responded.

"—and I'll commit suicide just like my brother!" He laughed hysterically. "I should probably start planning out what language I'll write in on the walls _in my own blood_! I don't want to die—"

"I don't give back what I take," he growled. "Ever."

"—but I'm going to! Oh shit, I haven't even gotten to see everything I wanted to! Ezio and Altair—"

"Stop your mindless blabbering!" the Specialist barked, and Desmond snapped his jaw shut, squeezed his eyes shut, and rocked almost violently.

"Cross," Mother rasped, and he could feel her crossing the hall to get to him, "you aren't going to get him to help that way, silly boy."

He felt her kneel beside her, and he winced when she wrapped her arms around him. "My child," she rasped, stroking his head as he curled up in her arms. "My silly little boy," she hissed. "Don't listen to them." He still had to open his eyes. "Where do you live?"

Desmond grunted, and he felt her breath on his head as she tucked him against her.

"My crazy, perfect little boy, I will help you. Where do you live?"

Now he knew this was an illusion. There was no way the cruelest of the pirates to ever roam the earth would _ever_ hold him like a child and call him her "little boy." He spilled his address, and he heard Hawkeye swear as he walked off, and he spent the better part of the day in the room his face pressed into a pillow that _Mother_ gave him, and he knew that if he just ignored things until this crazy illusion was over with, then he'd be good, and he'd go back on the medications, and he'd never forget to take one again.

He jolted awake to the sound of his name being shouted through the house, and he sat up, looking around and seeing _his _room. _His_ sheets, _his_ clothes, _his _shit strewn about the room. He looked when the door slammed open, and suddenly, there was Ezio clinging to him like a housewife, and Petruccio climbing on the bed beside him, and Federico and Altair standing just a bit away. He blinked before hugging his brother back whole-heartedly with a sob of relief.

"My medications," he croaked into Ezio's shoulder. "I need my medications."

"What?" Ezio asked, jerking back and holding him at arms' length.

"I need my medications. I thought I was on a ship with _sky pirates_. And not just any sky pirates, but _Zeus, Hawkeye, the Specialist, and Mother._"

Ezio blinked, then frowned, and Desmond winced.

"I'm sorry: I'm really sorry, and I know I should have been taking them, but I just forgot, and then one day turned to the next, and the next, and then before I knew it, I forgot them all together, and I need my medications. Please."

Federico nodded, turning to leave. "I'll grab him his medications and let the young man know you're going to be okay."

Desmond nodded once, looking at his lap, not really wanting to look at the others. He had really fucked up this time.

"Desmond."

He grimaced, forcing himself to look up at Ezio. His eyes were stern and concerned all at the same time, and he quickly looked away, back down at his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't forget again. I won't end up like Darien."

He could see Ezio flinch, and he adjusted slightly as Petruccio climbed into his lap. They sat in silence until Federico returned with two huge pills, and Desmond grimaced as he took them and the water from him. Without a second complaint, he swallowed them, downing all of the water before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and setting the glass on his bed sheet. Ezio and Altair were sitting on his bed now, too, and Federico was sitting on the floor.

"It is a pity you must suffer," Ezio said. "Why could you not be born blood relatives of us?"

"Then," Federico started, grinning, "you would finally be as awesome as we are, instead of just an orphaned child."

Desmond smiled at him. It was good to be home. The next few days found him taking a two pills in the morning, and two pills at night, and regardless of how much he dreaded taking them, he was finally back to feeling okay. He could concentrate on the school work he was given (he was almost done. He was eighteen, after all); he could fight Ezio or Federico and _not_ be brutally slaughtered, and he could, finally, stop dreaming about sky pirates. Which was okay with him.

Two weeks later, he found himself in his room, washing his face in a basin after an extensive training session, thinking about how much better he must have gotten. Altair had challenged him to a fight. If Altair thought he could even last a few minutes, then he was set for life. Things had gotten much clearer now that the medication was in his system. He wiped his neck and upper chest down, before deciding he ought to put on a shirt and change from his baggy training pants. He also needed to clean his feet, since they practiced barefoot. Living in a building with five men, for them, shoes were not the greatest priority. He padded over to the wardrobe, leaving the towel half hanging from the bin of water, before his door burst open, and he twirled around, blinking, wide-eyed, as Federico came waltzing in.

"My brother! There is a visitor for—"

The next thing he knew was a pair of lips on his and two big hands grabbing his head to tilt it to the side. He could see pale skin and a distracted, but cold, blue eye from the angle, and he let his eyes flutter closed as he let his mouth be forcefully taken by the familiar man. He could feel those same big hands on his hips, and by the time Alex pulled back, he was panting. The man had come back. So, the man was real.

"A-Alex?"

That predatory look was all he needed. If Federico could see him, he was real. His medications were working.

"Well now, Desmond," Federico purred, leaning on the doorframe. "When did this happen?"

"At the masquerade," Alex growled, his face becoming rather manic. "And then I lost him."

Federico grinned. "A good man then. You said your name was Alex?"

Alex looked over his shoulder and chuckled breathlessly. "Part of it."

Alex gave him a hungry look when he heard "_Zeus,_" pass through his lips in a whisper.

"That's right," he rumbled, then hissed, "And you're _mine_."

Desmond's eyes grew wide and swallowed. He could see Alex's eyes follow the bob of his Adam's apple, and he blushed brilliantly. "S-so then… th-that night-!"

Alex laughed once, grinning almost maliciously as he grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his room. He was tugged down the stairs, followed by Federico, and when he saw _Hawkeye _and the legendary mechanic _Paper Crane_ sitting at his table, his mind began to short circuit again. Ezio had been flirting with her, at least, according to his posture and the charming smile on his face.

"That's a hot piece of ass you got there," the woman said to Alex, grinning as she played with a wrench.

"P-Paper—"

"Crane, if you don't mind," she said with a grin.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes as he took a drag from the cigarette. "You both are idiots."

Federico scoffed. "You're just mad because he's getting laid—"

There was a low growl from the doorway, and Desmond looked over, wincing as Alex's grip on his wrist tightened painfully so. Altair was snarling now, having a stare down with the pirate. The bag of groceries he had in his arms was now lying, forgotten on the floor of the house.

"Let. Go."

Alex snarled, and Federico walked behind him. Desmond was terrified. He had no clue what was going on. Federico looked a little lost, and Hawkeye and Paper Crane were all ready on their feet.

"No," Alex challenged.

"As his brother—"

Alex whipped around, and Desmond shrunk back against Federico. "You're _his_ brother?" Alex hissed. "_The Great Eagle's_ brother?"

"Th-the who?"

There were three clicks, and everything seemed to halt as he saw the Paper Crane and Hawkeye pointing guns at Federico, Altair, and Ezio. Desmond exhaled shakily.

"All rightie, boys," Paper Crane said, "this kid is ours. Sorry, kiddos, but Alex stamped his name all. Over. His. Ass."

Altair snarled, shaking with rage.

"D-don't kill them," Desmond whispered. "Please. No, don't kill them."

Alex snarled. "You didn't tell me you were the brother of him!"

"I thought I was having a mental breakdown! What the fuck is wrong with my brother anyway?"

Alex simply snarled, pulling him out the front door and into the streets. He went to attack, but found himself surrounded by long black tendrils of _something_ that bound him to the man. He thrashed as best he could, but couldn't do a damn thing. As they ran from the house, he hollered for Altair, who held his hand up over his heart, his ring finger bent inward—their oath to protect each other in the orphanage brotherhood.

First, he had to convince himself he wanted to be saved.

He grunted as he was plopped down on the floor of the same engine room he had already seen once before. His wrists were bound, and he knew he couldn't fight them without the hidden blade on his arm, nestled nicely against the tape he had wrapped his wrists and hands in. Somewhere deep inside him, his belly clenched from nerves and excitement because it _hadn't_ been an illusion, and he _was_ on a ship with the world's most wanted. Hawkeye, the Specialist, Zeus, and even PaperCrane was there, as well as one more young man who looked like Hawkeye, who he assumed to be his brother, whose name was Kadar if he remembered the article correctly. Both Hawkeye and the Specialist were smoking this time, and the Specialist was laughing.

"Look at that grin on the boy's face! You really found yourself a keeper, Mercer!"

"He almost looks like he belongs here," Paper Crane said, cocking her hip and planting her hand on it as she twirled a wrench on her finger.

Desmond had completely forgotten about the bonds, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. He was in the presence of the world's most wanted men and women, and he was still alive. He watched the smoke curl lazily from Hawkeye's mouth. These people were his idols, and here he was, sitting on the floor of the _Blacklight_ and watching Hawkeye flip switches and get the ship going.

"He is _out there_," Mother hissed as she slunk into the cabin. "He is _waiting_."

Alex snarled. "I won't lose next time."


	3. Chapter 3

Desmond was too busy looking at all them, taking in the way they looked and memorizing every detail, thinking of how he should get their autographs and a picture with them, and how everything was incredible. For being dead for hundreds of years, they certainly looked good. He jerked slightly when he saw Hawkeye looked over his shoulder and gave him a thorough once-over before smirking with the same hunger Alex had had. He shivered.

"He's mine tonight, Malik," he heard Alex growl, and Malik flopped a hand at him.

"Zip it, novice."

"If you have time to eye _my_ treasure—"

"Remember, dumbass," Hawkeye said, turning to give him a critical eye, "you wrote our agreement. I get whatever you get. Your shit is mine."

Alex snarled, and the pilot scoffed, turning back around.

"'Sides, I wouldn't be surprised if by the time we land next, _everyone's_ fucked the boy at least once… but somehow, I don't think he would mind."

Desmond was bright red, looking at all the faces around him, each one with their own sadistic little smile, and suddenly, he felt more like a prized carcass for a pride of lions. At least he was the prized carcass for _the_ pride of lions. He jerked when he felt the bonds crawl off his arms, and he looked at his wrists.

"W-what the Hell?"

There was a quiet chuckle through the cockpit. Alex had one eyebrow raised. "You don't know what that was?"

"N-no!"

Paper Crane shook her head. "So much for a fanboy—"

"Hey! It's not like I had access to a lot of shit! I ended up stealing from monasteries to get what I wanted! You guys have been off the radar for hundreds of years! No one has seen you!"

Mother smiled again—she needed to stop that. "Such a smart little boy. Such a brilliant, intelligent boy."

He flushed. "I-I—"

"You know we're not human, right?" Paper Crane said.

"Duh!" Desmond standing up. "If you were, all of you would be dead by now! The Gentek explosion happened three hundred and twenty-two years, four months, and six day—no, seven, now—days ago!" His arms were flailing wildly as he spoke, occasionally fisting in his hair. "Hawkeye's explosion happened two-hundred and thirty-six years, seven months, and four days ago, and Paper Crane should be at least ninety five years old! She was twenty three when her fiancé died, and that was seventy-two years ago!"

The Specialist whistled. "You know your shit. Why don't you give him a lesson in Gentek's experiment, Mercer?"

Alex growled. "I guess."

He was drug out of the room and into Alex's, and by the time he was watching as Alex showed him just _what _the experiment was, Desmond was in love. He watched his arms morph into claws, into blades, into fists, and into a whip. He watched the man melt into a pile of red and black ooze. This was so much more than he ever expected. He could morph into _whatever_ he wanted.

That night in bed was even better.

When he woke the next morning, that burn in his backside was there again, and he couldn't help but smile. There was the feeling of soft breath against his head, and something warm pressed against him, and he snuggled in, deciding that perhaps this was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. When he heard a chuckle, he inhaled. It was _beautiful_.

"I should've guessed you were a cuddler."

He was going to die of sensory overload. Not that he would mind, but if Alex kept talking to him, he was sure he could die of happiness. The man's voice was _incredible._ His breath hitched as he felt a hand rub lightly at his side, and he found himself twisting to look at his bedmate. Alex—_Zeus_—had an amused look on his face (which probably was from the shocked look on his own), and one hand trailing over the skin on his back. He could feel his fingers pause, and grow, and spread over his back and cover his skin, and whatever the Gentek experiment virus-thing was, was warmer than hell and comfortable. He jolted slightly: he hadn't taken his medications.

"I…"

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"My medications!"

Zeus rolled his eyes, and after a few seconds of debate on whether he should move or not, Desmond saw his medications appear in front of him. He blinked at the black and red tendril holding them in front of his face before reaching out to take them. When he sat up to open the container, he found himself tugged back down before he could object.

"I didn't say you could sit up."

"I-I can't take them without sitting up to swallow and a glass of water!"

Alex growled, pulling him tighter, and he inhaled sharply—this was the sky pirate of legends not wanting him to get out of bed with him. This was _the_ sky pirate, telling him not to move because he wanted to _cuddle _with him—with him! With Desmond Miles, the queer little fanboy who lived in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, with his adopted older brothers after running away from home! With Desmond Miles, the kid whose brother had killed himself after going crazy, and was on medications for the exact same reason, and here he was, being commanded by his _idol_ to _shut the fuck up and stay in bed with him_.

Really, he didn't even know why he was objecting. He nestled back down, lost in a dazed stupor, as Alex nuzzled against him.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

"W-wha—Why?"

Alex quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Why me? What? I don't… Why me?"

Alex smirked, giving him a predatory look that made him shiver. He clutched the medication bottle close as Alex moved over him, and he stared wide-eyed at the beautiful man. His smirk grew into something darker, and he shivered.

"What do pirates collect?"

Desmond could feel his desire stirring at the growl. "U-uh… treasure?"

He inhaled sharply at the greedy look he was given, his fingers curling a little tighter around the bottle of horse-pills. "A fanboy is certainly a treasure."

He swallowed, taking a second to register the comment before grinning like a goof. "Well, that depends on how many fans you have. En masse, we get pretty terrifying."

Alex rolled his eyes, leaning in and murmuring against his lips, "Well, you're the only one I know of, and you're far too beautiful to go unappreciated. A true treasure, if I ever found one."

Desmond turned a brilliant shade of red as Alex pressed a fierce kiss against his lips, and he found one hand curling at the base of Zeus' neck as he let him take his mouth, leaving him breathless when he pulled back. One hand was still curled around the bottle of pills, and he shuddered at the look he was receiving. Alex licked his lips, and Desmond inhaled loudly.

"You're all mine."

He groaned when Alex leaned back in, and it wasn't until the pirate had had his wicked way with him that he was lying boneless and breathless on the bed, his pill bottle lost somewhere in the covers, completely forgotten about. Desmond practically purred as he pressed closer to Alex, despite the mess, and felt the man's skin ripple at the contact. Zeus' arms wrapped around him and held him tight, and he felt as if he could die right now and be okay.

"It's hard to believe you're _the Great Eagle's_ brother."

Desmond hummed complacently. "Who's 'e?"

"And enemy of mine."

Desmond knew he should be worried; he knew he should be panicking, but he was so utterly content right now he couldn't bring himself to care. "When?"

"Before the Gentek experiment. He was supposed to kill the man whose appearance I don now."

Desmond blinked, then looked up at Alex and blinked again. "He… what? No. Not Altair. He's too young. There's no way he's as old as the Gentek explosion."

"You seemed fine with me being that old."

"But you said yourself that you, Mother, and the Specialist weren't even human anymore!"

Alex chuckled, drawing him in for a deep, hungry kiss. Desmond had his hands curled on the back of Alex's neck, held close by the time he pulled back for air. The pirate's lips were still brushing his, and he kept his eyes closed as Alex murmured, "He is just as inhuman as us, Desmond."

He couldn't believe it. At all. There was no way _Altair_ was the arch nemesis of _Zeus_. There was no way he was living with a man who was almost three hundred and twenty three. There was no way his protector and provider for the longest time was at the Gentek explosion, and there was no way that he had been living with a Gentek-experiment-virus-thing for almost eleven years of his life (he had stumbled into Altair's protection at age eight with his brother) and not known it.

"You can ask him when he comes for my head."

His eyes shot open, and he stared at him. "W-what?"

Alex smirked, his expression growing darker. "I stole his treasure. Naturally, he's going to come and get it back."

Desmond could only blink in response for the longest time, eventually shaking his head as best he could so close to Alex, and breathed, "I'm not a treasure to him."

"Of course you are."

He shook his head. "I'm just another kid who needs a place to stay."

He could feel a rumble in Alex's chest as he brought one hand to lightly caress his cheek. "You underestimate yourself, Desmond."

Desmond rolled his eyes, nestling back down against him and trying not to think about it, and he almost succeeded, until he heard someone knock at the door.

"_Get up,_" he heard Mother rasp. "Our little girl got _him_ on the phone."

Desmond shot up, and Alex growled, rising slowly and walking out after pulling on some pants. He saw Mother in the doorway, watching Zeus move away, before looking at him and smiling. He shivered.

"My precious little boy, you may want to come too."

She vanished, and Desmond blinked, looking down at himself as he thought about how he'd have to find a way to clean himself, only to find the mess gone. He stared for a little bit before he remembered that Alex ate things that weren't dead for his meals. He ate _living beings_. He ate _living cells_. He blanched at the thought, his nose wrinkling and his lip curling. Gross. Slowly, he rose, his backside _burning_, but feeling incredible as he grinned, stretching, before pulling on some pants (they were Alex's, but he couldn't find his) and a shirt (also Alex's, but he was pretty damn sure one of those tendril things had hidden his clothes). He jumped when he heard a whistle.

Paper Crane was standing there, two bottles of pop in her hand as she laughed. "Hot piece of ass Alex picked up this time."

He jerked backward before walking over. She thrust a bottle at him, and he jumped, realizing it was already open. He looked at her as she held hers up.

"Name's Rebecca—don't call me by my code name. We're buds. A toast, yeah? To a successful theft and getting that phone to work!"

Desmond blinked several times before a smile pulled at his lips, and he raised his bottle, clinking it with hers and taking a sip. He had no idea what a phone was. Sure, there was one in their house, but it was never used, and so, he had no reason to toy with it, always more concerned about his schooling and his training. She hooked their arms together and led him into the engine room, chattering.

"It was hard to fix, but I got it. I'm hoping I can make a few improvements to it, but I'll have to run them by Shaun first. Damn shit is picky about his airships, you know? Well, probably not, but you'll meet him anyway when we land. Okay, now, be prepared. Alex will be pissy since it's your bro on the line. He doesn't like him."

Desmond nodded as he pushed open the door for her, and she bopped on in, taking another sip from the bottle. He followed in behind her.

"No. Over my dead body."

There was silence. Alex was hunched over the phone in the pilot's cabin, the cord twirled helplessly in his fingers. He watched, wondering what the Hell was going on, not understanding how it worked. Alex looked at him, then growled into part of it.

"Here, talk to him. You'll see what I mean."

He was gestured over, and the phone was thrust into his hands. He stared at the thing, not entirely sure what to do with it. He had never used one. He mimicked Alex, holding one end to the side of his face and the other to his mouth. When Rebecca laughed, he blushed. She adjusted it, and he shrank down slightly as he realized he had it backwards.

"Hello?" he murmured, looking down at his feet.

"Desmond?"

He jumped, Altair's voice coming in through part of it. It was crackly and fuzzy, but distinctly Altair, and his eyes grew wide.

"A-Altair?"

"Are you okay?"

It was hard to understand, but he could make out the gist of it. With an amazed breath, he looked at the piece Rebecca had pressed to his ear.

"Awesome. This is what that thing in our home did?"

"Desmond, are you okay?"

There was silence for a bit as he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the phone.

"This is so fucking cool!" he shouted, looking at the others. "This is awesome! How does it work? How are you talking to me? Awesome! This is so fucking cool!"

"Desmond—Desmond!"

He jolted, a goofy smile plastered to his face. "This is _awesome_, Altair. I wish you were here! You'd never believe it! I'm on a ship with all the sky pirates! I'm talking to you on a phone! I get to fly! This is awesome!"

"Desmond!" Altair barked, and his jaw snapped shut. He sounded angry, which never meant positive things.

"Y-yeah?"

"Are you okay? Do you have your medications? Have they been hurting you?"

"W-what?"

"Desmond, are you okay?"

He blinked. "I'm fine. I'm awesome. I'm in the_ air, _Altair! You know how much I wanted to be a sky pirate! I'm flying with _Zeus!_ I'm flying with _Hawkeye!_ I'm flying with _Paper Crane and Mother!_ I couldn't get any better! You should see the ship! This is incredible! And I'm talking to you on the phone! Geez! This is _great!_ I… Altair, this is awesome!"

He thought he heard Altair sigh on the other end. "Desmond, listen to me. Those people are evil—"

"These people are _awesome!_"

"Those people cannot be trusted. Do you understand?"

He lapsed into silence. Of course he knew that. Of course he knew they couldn't—they were pirates. "Of course I do," he murmured, "but… I mean… I just…"

"I know, Desmond. But you can't trust them."

He was silent as he thought, slowly but surely making up his mind. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

He paused briefly, then looked at his feet. Altair had a way of shaking him from his daydreams and fantasies. He had a way of making him feel as if he were in trouble, as if he was still a child and not eighteen already.

"Is… Are you… Were you really at the Gentek explosion?"

There was silence on the other line. Finally, he heard a heavy sigh.

"Yes, Desmond, I was."

He shuffled his feet, making sure to _not_ look up, as if Altair were there to see him. "Why… why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want you to get even more lost in your fantasies then you were. After your brother died, everything was walking on eggshells. You don't realize how frightening it was to see you become so lost in your daydreaming to console yourself over Darien."

He twisted his lips, rolling the cord between his fingers as he stared at the ground and his bare feet. "That… that was when I first started the medications."

"Yes. You kept telling me you saw Darien in the skies, telling you to come join him."

"Did Ezio and Federico know about you?"

"Yes."

He chewed on the bottom of his lip. He still needed to take his medications.

"Desmond?"

He looked up, at the wall, and blinked. "Yeah?"

"I'm going to let you go now."

"What if—"

"I'll give you our number. You've always had a good memory. Ready?"

He nodded, then remembered that Altair couldn't see him. "Yeah."

As Altair recited the number, he committed it to heart. He knew he would remember it. He could remember _anything_ if he wanted to, and he _needed_ to remember this. He nodded once he was done, staring at the phone again.

"Remember, Desmond," Altair started.

Desmond looked up at the wall.

"I love you. Don't let them let you destroy yourself. I will find you."

He nodded vigorously, and he heard Altair chuckle quietly.

"Desmond, if you're making some kind of head motion, I can't see you."

"R-right! I love you, too, Altair. I won't forget to take care of myself."

"And Desmond," he began, and he nodded in response, "you can hold your own against Alex if you have to. He's not so different from fighting me, and I have faith you can fight me."

He nodded once more, feeling, for once, _homesickness_ of all things. He wasn't going to see them again since he was "kidnapped." He almost wanted to plead with the others to take him back home. He pulled the piece from his ear as he heard the phone line die, staring at the earpiece as if Altair would come back and speak to him.

"You okay there, Desmond?"

He nodded numbly, handing the phone off to Rebecca as she came over, and he started walking out.

"I'm… gonna go take my medications." He paused only when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he was still staring at his feet. "Yeah?"

"If that's what has you down—"

"No," he murmured. "It's not. I just… I'm not going to get to see them again, am I?"

He took the silence as an affirmative as he pulled from the grasp. He sighed as he walked down the narrow hallway to the bed he shared with his biggest idol. Not even the prospect of knowing he was in Zeus' room was exciting. He wanted his bedroom. As he paced into the bedroom, he sighed again and shook the covers on his and Alex's bed, stopping only after he saw the bottle. He wanted to see Altair again—he wanted to prove himself against him. He wanted to joke around with Ezio and Federico and cuddle with Petruccio on the couch. He didn't know he'd have to give up his family forever if he wanted to travel. He wouldn't have wished for it so hard if he had.

"Hey…"

He turned after opening the bottle of pills. He saw Rebecca standing there with his bottle of pop. She offered a soft look and his drink before sitting with him on his bed. He took the pills and downed the soda before tossing the empty bottle and the pill bottle on the bed and covering his face with his hands. He went with the motion when Rebecca pulled him close, slouching against her.

"It'll be okay. I know what it's like to miss someone."

He yelped when she pulled them backward onto the bed. She rolled partly on top of him, and he blinked as she offered him a small smile.

"I lost my fiancé a long time ago, remember?"

"Yeah."

She nodded, her expression looking more hurt. "I was so upset. But Shaun, he's the man you're going to meet, Shaun offered me solace and a job away from the place he died. I can still remember what he did at the funeral."

"What did he do?"

"He started out by giving me his shoulder to cry on, since he was the first one to talk to me. He talked to me, trying to calm me down, about absolutely nothing, and it got on the topic of my mechanic skills. When I told him that I wasn't going to last since my fiancé ran the shop, he offered me a place away from the town and the painful memories."

"How was he killed?"

Rebecca shook her head. "A single bullet to the head. They traced it back to a hitman, but they never found him. Personally, I think the hitman was murdered by the man who hired him."

"Who hired him?"

Her voice cracked, and she let out a depressed laugh before shaking her head and resting her forehead on his chest. "We don't know. I don't know who murdered him. But once the man who murdered my fiancé is dead, I'm free from my contract with Shaun."

He hugged her tightly. "Contract?"

She shook her head again. "He has us all under contract to work for him. Keeps us alive, you know? Like Malik and Kadar?"

"Malik?"

"Hawkeye?"

"Oh!"

"Those contracts bind our souls to him. We live as long as he lives, or start the aging process once the contract is dissolved. I can't wait to find the man who murdered my fiancé and grow old and die."

He hugged her tighter, and she returned it with a tired hug.

"I just want to know he's at peace. My fiancé, I mean. And Shaun has been so supportive."

"Seventy-two years."

"Then the murderer is old."

"Dead soon."

He ran a hand through her hair and hugged her tighter as she cried softly against his chest. He could feel her back moving in jerky movements as she breathed between sobs, and he realized that his situation wasn't as bad as he thought. He could feel a damp patch on the shirt slowly grow as she cried, and couldn't help but kiss her head and hope she would be okay. He kept her close, holding her until she started moving. She sniffled as she pulled back a bit. Her eyes were swollen and bright red, and so was the tip of her nose, and she had tears streaks down her cheeks as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"Sorry. I dribbled snot all over your shirt," she murmured.

"It's not mine," he responded as she wiped her eyes, hiccupping once.

"W-what?"

"It's Alex's," he murmured, smiling when the corners of her lips turned upward.

"Why aren't you wearing your clothes? Elizabeth brought them in for you."

"Who's Elizabeth?"

"Mother?"

"Oh. I didn't know."

"She grabbed them while the others were distracted by us."

He blinked, and Rebecca laughed quietly.

"You didn't think we were going to buy you a whole new wardrobe, did you?"

He shook his head rapidly, then grinned like goof. "I hadn't actually even thought about clothes."

She laughed a little louder. "Where you planning on running around naked?"

He shrugged, leaning up on his elbows as she sat back. "I don't think you'd object, would you?"

She gave him an amused look, wiping her nose again. "No. I don't think I would, so long as you ended your naked streak in my bed."

He laughed with her, then pulled her down to kiss her. She chuckled as she pulled back, and he could help but grin wider. "I can arrange that."

She hugged him, and he used one arm to hug her back. They sat like that for a while before she murmured, "You're really built."

"I was taught by my brother."

"Altair is your brother?"

"Not a blood relative, although we look so similar I wonder if we are sometimes. Our orphanage is like a clan, almost."

"I wouldn't be surprised. After all, you held Pariah and lived."

"Pariah?"

"Elizabeth's kid? When he touches people, they usually shrivel up and die in horrid pain. Gentek mutation. Unless you're immortal. But you aren't, so that's why we were surprised."

He pursed his lips before shrugging, switching arms to hug her. "I suppose it's possible, since he's ancient."

"How did you not know that Altair was at the Gentek experiment? I mean, even if you didn't live with him, then surely you realized he never grew older."

He sat up completely, scooching back to lean against the headboard of the bed. He pursed his lips. "I'm… I never paid attention."

"How not?" she asked, staring at him as she straddled him before leaning back on her hands.

"Those medications I take are really strong. Like, when I first came into Altair's care, I was eight, and my brother was already having conversations with himself in languages that weren't real. As he got worse, I spent more time with him because he was my only family after running away, and while the other guys were nice, I was only eight, yeah?"

"Well, that makes a little bit of sense. What about later on?"

"The day after my ninth birthday, Darien committed suicide. He had given me some of his clothes and his favorite blanket—all his journals. He wrote me a message on the wall in his blood as I slept, telling me he loved me and would see me in the skies. I guess, after that, I started hallucinating really badly, and Altair stuck me on medications he ordered in from somewhere. They help a lot, but I never noticed because, usually, I forgot to take the medications, and so then the daydreams and illusions came back, and the paranoia got worse, and so… I was always distracted, between schoolwork and all the mental problems."

Rebecca was watching him silently. He met her gaze slowly, and she leaned in, hugging him. He hugged her back, pulling her close, and they sat there for a while, not speaking, not moving, just cuddling against one another, sharing their grief. Desmond realized perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if he had her to help him through his homesickness. There was comfort in her arms, and he could find himself enjoying the way she smelled of oil and sweat and hard work from the machinery that always needed tending to. It smelled comforting to him, and as he curled his fingers tighter in her shirt, he realized this may just have been the best family he could've stumbled into. Eventually, he heard someone walking down the hallway, but he ignored it.

"I think that Elizabeth grabbed your blanket," Rebecca murmured.

"Really?"

She moved, and he sighed when she left him.


	4. Chapter 4

Kadar peeked in.

"Everything okay?"

"Wanna come join the pity-cuddle party?" Rebecca asked as she pulled out some clothes and various things that Desmond had owned.

Kadar stepped in, smiling worriedly. "I was worried."

"It's all us people with messed-up lives gathering here," Rebecca murmured, shaking out the blanket he had gotten from Darien and walking over, wrapping it around him.

He held his arm out, inviting Rebecca to sit in his lap, and Kadar paced over, crawling on the bed beside them.

"Although, admittedly, he's got it worse. At least I'm not gonna turn into a loony bin if I don't take medications."

Desmond harrumphed and squeezed her tightly in his grip. She growled, and he laughed. He was lucky: he was holding _Paper Crane_ in his arms. Kadar was settled on the bed.

"You know," Rebecca said, a mischievous tone to her voice as she turned to look him and Kadar, "we should have a threesome. Right here. In Alex's bed."

Kadar turned bright red. "Y-you're kidding!"

"Nope!" she chirped.

"I'm not washing it," Kadar growled quietly, crossing his arm, all embarrassment suddenly gone, and a scowl closely akin to Malik's.

Desmond couldn't help but smile. "You look just like your brother when you do that."

When Kadar looked outraged, Desmond couldn't help but laugh. Kadar harrumphed and kicked his legs, and he grinned, grabbing him in a pseudo-headlock. The young man growled, and Desmond found himself quickly overpowering Kadar's struggles, pinning him to the bed.

Kadar growled, "I'll call my brother if you don't get off me."

Desmond hummed, feeling slightly bolder and leaning in for a kiss. Kadar turned away.

"Come on," Desmond purred, his lips grazing over his ear.

He looked to see Rebecca closing the door, a mischievous grin on her features. He smirked at her, looking down to see Kadar's eyes growing wide.

"Now can I have that kiss?" he murmured. "After all, I think your brother gets me tonight anyway."

Kadar whipped his head back to raise an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Hell, I'm not going to argue about being a slut for the people I've _idolized._"

Kadar scoffed.

"You're included, you know. I always wondered if I would be able to meet the great Hawkeye and his brother. I knew your name. I thought you sounded like a—"

He stopped midsentence when Rebecca pressed down against his back. "Buddy, you're chalking up to the wrong guy. I get to make sure you stay on board, kiddo. I'm the mechanic. I'm the one you need to please."

Desmond looked over his shoulder at Rebecca. She was giving him a dark grin, and he nearly mewed when she ran her nails down his spine, arching into her touch.

"To think I was gonna cut them," she murmured. "You're so responsive!"

"He's a like a well-paid whore," Kadar said right before crushing their mouths together.

Desmond thought that he would always end up on his back—even if he was being ridden. That wasn't to say he didn't _enjoy_ Rebecca riding him like a horse, or Kadar demanding a blowjob, because he was still _in Heaven_, and he was still his idols' _pet_ for fuck's sake, and if Kadar just pulled his hair one more time…

He got the feeling, as he lay there with the other two afterward, his libido would see more action in a day than Ezio's did in a week. At least, on the ship. Not to say he didn't mind. No, he was perfectly content with being kidnapped and becoming a slut. He was being screwed by the most powerful people on the face of the planet, and he loved it. He could easily get used to this life.

That evening, when he was put in charge of cooking for them, he smirked. He could cook. Ezio had taught him. Kadar seemed more than happy to let him take over that job, satisfied with cleaning as his job. He enjoyed the sound of meat sizzling in the pan, or the smell of the vegetables as they cook. Hell, he even enjoyed the cleaning of the dishes, or watching the others wolf down his meal. He was _cooking_ for the most wanted men and women in all of history. _And they liked it._ He couldn't keep the doofy grin off his face as he ate his own meal, dying a little inside of happiness every time one of them would comment on how good his cooking was. Anymore praise from these guys—he was being _praised_ by the deadliest sky pirates in the world. And when they passed him their dirty dishes, he was even cleaning after them. Perhaps not nearly as exciting as he would've like (reality of not seeing his family broke the spell of fanboyishnes), but still_ he was working for the world's most wanted. _Here was the crazy kid, the one who was never as good as his brothers, working in the ship for sky pirates. Here was the creepy kid, who was known for his ludicrous illusions and outrageous daydreams, being _lusted_ after (at least, he liked to tell himself. He realized that probably wasn't true, and that it wasn't _him_ they lusted after, just sex) by his idols. Here was the nobody, now recognized as a _somebody _by a bunch of _somebodies_. He couldn't keep the grin off his face.

He couldn't even keep it off his face when Malik peeked in.

"You're still cleaning."

His grin grew even wider. "Yeah. I never thought… I always been… This is just… I'm still not entirely sure this isn't a dream!"

Malik rolled his eyes, walking over and standing beside him. He was squirming as he cleaned the rest of the dishes, merrily chattering his way to the end as he waited for whatever Hawkeye needed. Even once he was done, the pilot just stood there, a forlorn expression on his face, and Desmond tilted his head, fighting to keep his smile down.

"What's wrong?"

The man was silent, giving him a thorough once over. Desmond squirmed under his gaze, feeling slightly like he was back in Altair's presence. "You look just like him."

"Oh," Desmond said. He clasped his hands behind his back and scuffed one foot on the floor, looking down at the paneled flooring.

"My adopted brother. I get that a lot. People expect me to be just like him, so, I'm sorry if I'm not. I'm really not as talented as him."

"That bumbling idiot, talented? You've shown me more talent than he ever did."

Desmond jerked, looking up at him, surprised. "You knew him?"

"Novice, Altair told me he loved me on the trip my plane exploded. First time I ever heard him say it in the three years we were together."

If his eyes got any wider, they might just pop out of his head. Malik sighed, giving him a pitiable expression. The man cupped his cheek, and Desmond found himself furrowing his brows as he felt Malik's thumb rub back and forth against his skin.

"You are different from him, novice, and more pleasant to travel with so far, but I cannot sleep with you. It would do you no justice if I could not think of you."

He blinked. Wait—the crankiest sky pirate he had ever heard of had a heart. Not only that, but he was also telling him that _because _he couldn't think of anyone else—

"I don't mind, really," Desmond said, trying to smile brightly. "I can do whatever you want. I've gotten good at acting like him. If you want to pretend I'm him—"

"You are respectable in your own right," Malik said, shaking his head. "I would not ask you to do that to yourself."

"Are you sure? I mean, there's no point in being in pain if you have an almost replacement right here."

Malik's lips curled into a smirk. "You are nothing more than a slut, aren't you?"

Desmond startled looking at him confused, before he laughed. "I was just trying to help!"

"Well then, novice, you can start by having a bit more confidence in yourself. And going to bed. It's late, and Alex is almost as insufferable as your brother if he doesn't get what he wants."

Desmond snorted, throwing the rag on the edge of the sink (he didn't even know ships could have sinks). "Don't I know that. Altair used to always sulk."

"Like a child," Malik said, irritated as they walked out of the kitchen. "He would fold his arms and pout."

"He did?" Desmond asked, looking the pilot. "You're kidding."

"You never saw that?" Malik responded, quirking a brow as they paused in front of the bedroom door. "I will show you, when he comes. He is such an idiot."

Desmond grinned. "I like that."

He pushed open the door to his room, flushing when he saw the bed he, Kadar, and Rebecca had rolled around in, and then grinned when he saw Alex curled up in the middle of it. He had his back to him, looking almost tiny in the ball he had curled into. Desmond walked over as stealthily as he could.

"I'm here," he murmured.

Alex's head shot up, and he laughed at the bright blue eyes blinking at him. The utter shock lasted only a moment before he scowled. "And Malik?"

Desmond grinned. "Said I looked too much like Altair."

Zeus blinked, looking like Pariah for a second before Desmond yelped as a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the bed, holding him close and muttering into his back, sullenly, sounding like an angry child. Desmond tried not to smile, tried not to grin, or giggle, or laugh, and he would have failed, if Alex hadn't kissed the base of his neck.

"Stupid fucking _Great Eagle,_" Alex growled. "You're _mine,_ Desmond."

"Of course, Alex," Desmond said, grinning from ear to ear.

"You doubt it?" the man growled, and he could almost see the child-ish scowl.

"Not at all."

"You're mocking me."

"I am not!"

"You're becoming a spoil brat."

"I've only been here a day and a half!"

"You're a spoiled brat."

"I am not!"

"Maybe you should clean the bathrooms, too."

"W-what? And leave Kadar to the cooking?"

Alex paused, and Desmond grinned when he felt the man shift, wrapping his arms even tighter around him and burying his nose in his hair.

"Clean them _and_ make dinner."

He snorted.

"Spoiled brat. How did Altair put up with you?"

Desmond snorted again.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Okay."

"I said shut up."

Desmond rolled his eyes, settling down. He closed his eyes, still grinning because here was _Zeus_, holding him and pouting like a two-year-old all because he thought that he was going to sleep in a different bed that night. He enjoyed getting the attention from the pirates. He couldn't believe they were actually in the flesh and blood, letting him _work_ for them, letting him _sleep _with them.

"You could at least say good night," Alex murmured, the pouting tone evident in his voice.

"But you just said—"

"Shut up."

"Okay…"

"But not before you say good night."

"Good night, Alex."

He got a grunt in response, followed by a, "Now shut up… spoiled brat."

Desmond rolled his eyes, before closing them, and he couldn't keep that grin from his lips as he slowly fell asleep.

He woke to the feel of Alex on top of him, almost smothering him with his weight. He could feel the man's breath against his ear, soft and quiet. It quickly turned into his routine: he would wake up, Alex sometime later, and he would try to get up, but Alex would pull him back down (and maybe have his way with him), then he would be hounded until he got his ass into the kitchen and made breakfast (usually by Rebecca, who was more than eager for good food) and took his pills. After that, he followed someone around, watching, learning, _memorizing_ everything because there was no telling when his time onboard the _Blacklight_ would end. He loved to sit on a stool near the phone, watching Malik flip switches and keep the ship flying smoothly. He loved to watch Rebecca work on the insides, occasionally helping her whenever she permitted it. He loved to fight with Cross (he was fighting _The Specialist_ and living) or with Alex, realizing that Altair _was _right, and that he could hold his own against them, and he drank up the comment or sentence of praise that usually followed a fight. And then he often talked with Kadar and Pariah, who were often seen with each other, and he got to know the man, and even fighting him once or twice (damn, he was remarkably good), and the man told him (and Pariah) incredible stories about Malik's flights, or they would talk about whatever came to mind, and he found himself growing extremely close to the man.

After that came dinner and more medications, followed by Alex eventually dragging him back into his room and doing whatever he pleased with him. That wasn't to say Desmond cared.

But, as the days passed quickly, he found out there were certain things to watch for. For example, Robert Cross happened to enjoy sneaking up behind him in the kitchen and having some "fun." And Rebecca and Elizabeth enjoyed ganging up on him to wrangle him in bed, and even though Mother was scary as hell, she _certainly_ knew how to work his body. Pariah enjoyed cuddling with him, usually when he needed to clean up the dishes, or sometimes, Malik would tell him to watch the ship while he went to use the bathroom.

And that was a nice routine. The others certainly didn't mind his tendencies_._ He was happy. Until he was rudely waken in the middle of the night. Alex was getting out of bed, and he woke slowly. A little confused when Alex threw a suitcase on the bed for him, he rubbed his eyes.

"We're here. Come on."

"Huh?"

He stumbled out of the bed, dressed in a shirt he didn't remember dressing in, and pants that were arranged rather uncomfortably. Come to think of it, there was only one button on the shirt done up. He picked up the suitcase, stumbling along behind him and into a passageway, a long passageway, until they were at a door, and he couldn't help but just want to curl up with Alex again in their warm bed and fall asleep.

He blinked when the door was opened, and he stepped into a dim, warm room. He inhaled deeply as he looked around, the smell of an old library overwhelming him. He must be in a library of some sorts, and the smell seemed to wake him up. He loved libraries.

He watched the others wander over to a comfortable setting of chairs and couches, and as he woke, he found he was in a two-level library. There were shelves of books lining the outer edge of the room, and a ring of shelves a few feet in, and his eyes widen: this was incredible.

If this was the safe haven of the sky pirates, he wondered why they ever even left. He was drawn over to one of the shelves as the others spread out, lounging a small ways off in the posh chairs, looking as bored as they could ever be. Desmond didn't understand as he looked over the shelves, his fingers inches away from the books.

"Oh my God," he breathed, his pulse pounding in his ears. "Oh, my, God. This… this is… An original… oh my God."

He jerked back and forth, warring over whether or not to take the book out, and finally, he did, trembling as he held it. It was the original diary of Dr. Alex Mercer, the one who had created Zeus. He had heard it was real, but had never actually known it to exist, and here he was holding it, and those words were in actual hand-written ink, and he couldn't really read it because he was trembling so badly—

"Hello there. What are you doing touching my book?"

His head whipped up, and his mouth went dry: it was _the_ Shaun Hastings, the biggest collector of ancient books and texts and _why the hell he hadn't connected the dots was beyond him._ He made a soft squeak-like noise, then looked back at the diary, then back at the man, dressed in a fine grey suit, a cane in his hand and a pressed white shirt beneath the jacket. He was going to die of overload.

"Y-you—I—this—"

"Cut the boy some slack, Hastings. He's the only fan you're ever going to have."

He watched the scowling face look over at the other pirates, and Desmond was still trying to piece together a formidable sentence.

"This dunderhead is a fan? He hardly seems like the literate type."

"He's too busy trying not to pass out after seeing the famous Shaun Hastings, and probably looking at some book he has half-memorized all ready."

"Seeing as how it's _your creator's_ diary, I highly doubt so."

Desmond squeaked again, closing the book gently and handing it back, and Shaun raised an eyebrow at how badly he was trembling as he crouched, covering his mouth.

"Oh, my God, oh my God. Oh. My. God. I'm in the library I've been wanting to find forever. I just held Dr. Alex J. Mercer's diary. I'm talking to the man who _owns_ it."

He sat there, staring for a little bit at the floor before his mind was back to functioning properly, and he ran a hand through his hair, before looking over at the others talking. Shaun seemed to be planning something, and rather than disturb him, he rose slowly, leaning slightly on the shelves as he browsed them. He was dumbstruck by all the books, and when he found a book on Gentek (a _real _copy, not one stolen from a monastery on a passing whim), he sat on the floor, opening it gently as if the spine might break, and started reading.

"It's only been an hour."

He was on his feet immediately, ready to fight in a defensive position, and his eyes wide. The book was carefully pressed against his chest, and he blinked when he saw Shaun standing there, looking irritated.

"Don't even bother. You can't win."

He blinked again. "Instinct, sorry."

Shaun quirked an eyebrow. "Now, just how did you get to page one hundred in that book? It took me several hours—"

"How?" Desmond asked, his jaw dropping. "It's _fascinating_. This book is so interesting." He looked back down at the pages. "I can't believe it took you that long—"

"He's probably all ready got it memorized," Malik drawled, and Desmond blushed.

"This library is so incredible! And this book—I mean, look at the schematics for the floors! The details about the project—God, even how the thing works! This is so great…"

By then, he was distracted by a drawing of the virus worked on in Gentek.

"You're… shit… look at this thing."

He had his finger on the page, trailing over the legs of the small creature and following them up to the body. He looked up when he felt Shaun's eyes, and the man was smirking.

"So you're interested, hm?"

He nodded, half-distracted by the book in his hands.

"Well then, make yourself at home. It's been too long since I've had a decent conversation."

It wasn't long until he was surrounded by a pile of books, curled up on a comfy, but classy chair, and totally engrossed in the documents. He didn't notice the plate of food Alex brought him or the sun as it rose and set next day. He fought himself to stay awake as he committed what the books said to heart, shaking his head and adjusting in the seat to ensure he would stay awake. Eventually, sleep got the best of him, and he felt himself nod off in the middle of a book on Kadar.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. Here's more. What do you think? <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

He woke up in an overly plush bed, silk sheets on top of him and a warm body beside him, and he groaned as he stretched. There was a familiar chuckle beside him, and he smiled softly, exhaling slowly before looking at Alex. The man was watching him intensely, and he scooted closer as Alex wrapped an arm around him.

"I thought you might enjoy it here."

Desmond hummed. "This is your safe haven?"

Alex hummed.

"A giant library, with lots of old books. I am..."

"Happy?"

"Well, I was thinking dead, but that works, too."

"I should hope you're not dead."

"You care that much?" Desmond asked, murmuring against his chest.

"More than that."

"Really?"

"Enough to warn you not to trust to Shaun. He'll use you, and I don't want that."

"But you use me for sex."

"_Only_ I can use you."

"What about the others?"

Alex growled, wrapping his arms around him tighter. "I don't care. Because you will always return to _me._ Shaun will take you and bind you to him with a contract. Be aware, Desmond."

Desmond chuckled. "I will."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

"I don't believe you. You're too attracted to the books he has."

"Who wouldn't be?"

Alex growled, and Desmond curled up a little tighter.

"Sorry. I won't let him contract me."

"Don't let him come _near_ you."

"Okay, okay," he murmured, trying to sound as if he would listen, because he _would_, because if he _didn't_, then Alex would probably kill him, and all he had to do was play peacemaker until Altair came for him.

Of course, he still wasn't sure he wanted to be rescued. He was perfectly content to stay here, with all of the sky pirates, being used for sex. These were his idols. He was in love with every single one of them. _Every. Single. Fucking. One._ Even Kadar and Pariah, who weren't even pirates, but still, he was in love. He didn't mind that everyone was rough with him. Hell, the pain in his lower back hadn't gone away the entire time, but he didn't mind it at all. They were rough: it was in the definition of the pirate. He found it semi-pleasant. Let it also be said that he may have had a bit of a masochistic streak.

"What are you thinking about?"

Desmond blinked slowly, curling up a little more and humming. "Nothing important."

"Like your brother."

"Like my brother."

Alex hummed, and he felt the man pull him in a little closer yet. He remained like that until there was a knock at the door, some young woman politely telling them that breakfast was ready. He made sure to take his medications, and slowly, he made his way to the table after changing into some fresh clothes and nodding when Alex said he was going to wake up Cross. He saw Shaun sitting at the head of the table, a cup of tea in his hands, already dressed pristinely, white gloves spotless. When Shaun noticed him, the man smirked and set the cup down.

"Enjoyed yourself, did you?"

He couldn't help but find himself grinning. "Yes! This is incredible! I don't understand why Alex and them _ever_ want to leave! This… your library!"

Shaun smiled, pleased, and leaned back in the chair, patting the seat just beside him. He scampered over before halting.

"If you're worried about something Alex said," Shaun began when he noticed his hesitation to sit, "which undoubtedly he did, don't listen to him. That bumbling rowdy would never know how to speak to people." Shaun rolled his eyes, sighing almost disgustedly. "They all are, really, completely and utterly socially inept and illiterate. I'm fortunate Alex picked you up of everyone else from that masquerade. Saved him my ire."

Desmond laughed, sitting down. "So, did you have them fetch the books for you?"

Shaun shrugged nonchalantly, smiling warmly at him. If Desmond didn't know any better, he'd say it was _truly_ warm, and not just an act. "A few of them. Some on my own, some from people I hired. Then I stumbled upon _them_. The Gentek explosion—a true work of art."

Desmond jerked. "I-I!"

Shaun laughed coldly. "People today have no sense of beauty. To them, bad is ugly, and good is beautiful. People today are idiots."

Desmond found himself grinning again, eagerly wiggling in the seat. "So… how long were you alive before the Gentek explosion?"

"One thousand, four hundred and sixty-two ye—"

"No way!" Desmond shouted, moving forward a little bit more.

Shaun jumped, pulling back a bit before he gave him that same smile. "Yes. You know what that means, don't you?"

"You were alive before the Third World War! Holy shit! That's incredible! And some of those books are from then?"

Shaun picked up his cup, sipping from it calmly. "Of course. I would settle for no less."

He let his jaw drop, the doofy smile still there as he stared at Shaun. Shaun raised an eyebrow at him before he swallowed and rested his forehead in his palm.

"Oh, my, God. I-I'm… And… To think… I can't…"

"However," Shaun began, and Desmond looked up, frowning. He wasn't going to sign away his life. "I do expect a decent conversation from you for letting you read those books."

Desmond grinned. That was probably the easiest thing Shaun could ask for in repayment. "I don't know if I could let you get away without talking to me. Books are only good if you share them with someone! You've _got _to have someone to talk about it with!"

"Agreed," Shaun murmured distantly, sipping at his tea.

"What was it like?"

Shaun hummed, arching a perfect eyebrow and looking at him as he swallowed. Desmond wriggled, _burning_ with curiosity.

"What was the old world like?"

Shaun blinked, then seemed to debate with himself internally before he gave him a defeated look and sighed dramatically. "It was terrible, really."

He didn't hear when Alex and the others came in, or when the food was brought out, and he hardly remembered to get food for himself and eat as he listened to Shaun with rapt attention. Shaun seemed to get a mischievous look the longer he talked, almost smug and calculating, and Desmond wondered if he knew he was making that kind of face, or if the others saw it, but he always had a keen eye for detail. Shaun talked for several hours about the world before theirs, about how corrupt it was, and how the Third World War was an utter disaster. He spoke of a land called China and a land called America, and how the two of them were the cause of the war, and how the place where he was born, named the United Kingdom ("_Great Britain_," he spat. "But it changed to the United Kingdom."), and several other countries had all banded together, and proceeded to beat China and their allies, but the nuclear bombs (which he spent over an hour lecturing on) made no distinction in military might. Everything died when one of those were dropped.

It was well into nighttime before Desmond let Shaun stop talking. He was draped over the arm of a couch, and Shaun was talking in quiet tones in a chair just adjacent to the couch, and a butler had started fire in the hearth because the nights were cold. He loved the man's accent, remnants of a lost world that stubbornly survived. As Shaun finished explaining the Third World War, Desmond was half-asleep, the entire twelve hours talking now memorized.

"Still awake?"

"Mm-hm," he murmured, blinking slowly as he stared at Shaun.

Shaun smirked. "Are you sure?"

"Can't you tell me just a little more?"

"You're falling asleep. You won't even remember everything I told you tomorrow."

He scowled. "I resent that! I will not!"

Shaun scoffed. "Fine. Off to bed, and when you come in for breakfast tomorrow, I'll test your memory."

"Bring it, bitch," Desmond said as he rose, snarling. "I'll show you I don't forget _anything_ if I don't want to."

As he stormed off, he paused briefly to pick up the book on Kadar he fell asleep reading. His pile of books was still there, scattered around the chair, and he flipped it open to the right page, reading as he walked back to his and Alex's room. The fireplace was lit, and Alex was lying on the bed, his arms behind his head and his legs stretched out. He lay down next to him, and as he felt Alex's arm wrap around his waist, he briefly thought, for a fleeting moment, Alex actually loved him as a _person_, and not just as a body to use to get his sexual release. He was quickly distracted by the paragraph explaining that they found several letters addressed to someone, each of them love letters. Kadar had fallen love.

"What are you smiling about?" he heard Alex murmur, and the man shifted to look over his shoulder at the book.

"Kadar fell in love."

"I remember that."

"You do?"

"Shaun courted him. Played him like a fool to get to his brother."

"What?"

Alex nuzzled close, pressing his lips against the pulse point on his neck and murmuring. "He did. He was the mediator when I got Malik to sign the contract. You should have seen him when he held that contract for the first time. He looked so smug."

"He won't do that to me."

"Don't be so sure."

"What use would he have for me? The same use as you? Sexual release? Come on, Kadar is more attractive than I am, but if you touched Kadar, you'd probably be slaughtered."

He read another paragraph before he looked at Alex, who had pulled back and was staring at him seriously. Desmond blinked calmly before turning back to the page, and his eyes grew wide at the black tendrils creeping over the pages. He looked back up at Alex, who was frowning slightly.

Alex leaned in slowly, and Desmond could feel the book being pulled from his hands. It was as if it were all happening in slow motion, before he felt Alex's lips brush his ear.

"What will it take to make you believe you are more to us than just a tool?"

He shuddered at the growl.

"You have such low self-confidence. Is this what the Great Eagle did to you?"

"Altair made me remember I needed to take my medications."

Alex growled, shifting at lightning speeds and using one arm to pin him to the bed. He could see the tentacles pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the stand and find the medication bottle in suitcase as the pirate pressed slow, heated kisses to his neck.

"There's gotta be a way to make you see how much you are to _me,_" he murmured against his skin.

Desmond shuddered as he reached out and took the bottle and the glass of water from him. He wrangled out two pills and let the bottle drop, jerking when Alex nipped at his neck. He cursed softly as water sploshed over the edge of the cup and fell on the bedspread and his pant leg before he popped the pills back and drank the rest of the water. When Desmond wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, Alex had stilled, his lips pressed right behind his ear.

"You are a sky pirate's _treasure_, Desmond," he growled, and Desmond inhaled. "We don't take it if it's not what we want. If it's not what we_ treasure_. Otherwise, I would've left you in the bed back at the palace, and you'd be going out of your mind."

Desmond couldn't help but smile sheepishly. "Yeah… that would probably be happening. And I never would've gotten to meet you guys, or try the phone—does Shaun have one?"

"Yes, why?"

"I want to call Altair. I won't tell him where we are, but I…"

Alex exhaled, and he couldn't help but tense at the feeling of his breath behind his ear. "I suppose you can do that. But you'll have to ask Shaun."

He smiled as he watched Alex move to look him in the eyes.

"But first, you're mine."

His eyes grew wide as the tendril moved his book, and he gasped when Alex leaned in for a fierce kiss.

The next morning found him curled up against (or in, or partly covered by) the virus man, the room warm with the still burning fire. Alex was in his "pure" state, in black and red worming ooze, and he couldn't help but run his fingers through it, smiling like a kid at Christmas as his fingers played in it, and it was as if he were some sort of thick soup, staying attached to his fingers as until he pulled far enough away it flopped back down. When he tried to lift the covers, a tentacle would prevent him, and he would grin and blow gently on the virus ooze, watching it ripple under the colder air. Eventually, he rolled on top of the ooze and let it surround his middle as if to suck the heat out.

If anyone had ever asked him if he ever thought that he would get to do this, he would've responded with a resolute, "No." He was playing with the Blacklight virus as if it were just some sort of putty. He was playing with it as if it _weren't_ the deadliest thing on the face of the planet, and he was _loving_ it. His grin grew as he snuggled into soup-like virus. Then the maid came around and knocked, waking them up, it took several quiet murmurs and plenty of promises to lure Alex out of bed. By the time he was sitting next to Shaun with his medications taken, the others were already there and eating.

"Certainly took you long enough."

Alex was dressed in three different winter coats, yawning mightily as he sat down. Desmond grinned at Shaun. "It was awesome! He was just a big puddle of black and red ooze!"

"Finally warm enough, hm?" Shaun asked, leaning back briefly, chuckling at the glare he got before turning to Desmond. "Ready for your quiz?"

Desmond's brow furrowed, and it took a bit before he remembered, slamming a hand on the table and grinning evilly. "You're on!"

"You're never going to win, you know," Shaun said, looking as arrogant as a rooster.

"If I do, can I call my brothers?" he asked innocently.

Shaun scoffed. "Of course. _If _you win."

Cross snorted as he chewed. "If it's a battle of memory, you won't ever win, Hastings."

"You're gonna lose," Rebecca said with a shrug.

"Don't say we didn't warn you," Kadar said, laughing.

Desmond smirked, his lips curling up to show his teeth. "Bring it, British Boy."

Shaun rolled his eyes, "Just like them."

And by the time they were done with breakfast, Desmond had answered over one-hundred and fifty questions, all correct, even about the book on Kadar Shaun had pulled out. Shaun was sitting there, a scowl on his face as Desmond gloated in the praise from the pirates. He was practically glowing with pride, and he grinned like a doofus at Shaun.

"Can I collect my prize, now?"

Shaun huffed, calling for a maid and having her lead him to the phone. It took him a bit to remember which end he held to his ear and the other to his mouth, but he figured it out. He dialed the number quickly, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Yeh?"

He blinked at the sound of the receiver. It sounded like Ezio—sleepy.

"E-Ezio?"

A growl. "Who'sih?"

He blinked. "It's… Desmond. Is Altair around?"

"Altheer, Desund is no' aroun'. You said—"

"It's _me_. _Desmond._ Desmond is on the phone!"

There was silence for a moment, and then Desmond growled, shouting into the receiver, "You fucking idiot: it's Desmond! Get Altair on the fucking line!"

"Desmond?" he sounded much better now.

"Yes, it's me—"

"Desmond!" he pulled the earpiece back. "Desmond! How are you? Are you well? They treat you right, correct? Don't let them molest you, of course, unless you want it."

Desmond rolled his eyes. Of course Ezio would say that.

"I'm fine, Ezio. Yes, they have been molesting me. It's not unwanted, though, so you don't have to come kill them."

"Are you sure it's not unwanted?"

"I know you want a fight," he laughed, "but it's not unwanted."

Ezio huffed. "Fine, fine. Tell me, are they clean? I mean, they are pirates. You are the talk of the town now."

"Yeah, they're clean. Their ship is almost spotless, but now that I've met the man in charge of them, I'm not surprised they have good hygiene. And really?"

"Really, really, kiddo. All the little kids are hoping you come back with the pirates, and all your bullies are now paranoid as Hell."

Desmond laughed.

"And I'm glad to hear you're not living in filth. Ugh. Some of those ships…"

He grinned. "I like these guys, Ezio. They're even cooler in real life than in the newspaper clippings!"

"We found your stolen books, by the way."

Desmond blushed. "Really?"

"Yup. And your pictures, and your boxes of clippings we didn't know about… You've got the skills to be a good thief. When Altair rescues you, he's got a job lined up for you."

"Really? With who?"

"Remember Gilberto?"

"Yeah? That man who loves orange?"

"That's him. _La Volpe_. You're going to be apprenticed."

Desmond was silent for a bit. He wasn't sure he had heard Ezio correctly. "Altair knows _the_ La Volpe?"

"Indeed he does. He was going to tell you after you fought with him, you know, coming of age ceremony and shit like that. Make sure you're able to handle it… blah, blah, blah, but, well, now you're with your second favorite group of people ever."

"Wait—second favorite?"

"After us, of course."

"Right," he said with a laugh. So he hadn't heard wrong. He was going to be apprenticed to _La Volpe_, the master thief of the world. _Gilberto_, the family friend, was _La Volpe_. He had known the man all his life, and he had endured that knowing smile every single time he looked at him, and he had _never known_. "But, I mean—are you—to _La Volpe?_"

"I mean, we never noticed when you heisted books, and usually, you were right beside us whenever we were out, so… the way we figure is, you gotta have some talent. And sure, you could become an assassin-for-hire like the rest of us, as we've been training you for, but you don't _have_ to."

Desmond couldn't believe it. He honestly could not believe he was going to be apprenticed into one of the world's greatest _thieving _guilds. He was going to be apprenticed under the world's best _thief_. And learn from _La Volpe, the family friend._ "That's—that! Cool! That's awesome! I can't—that's great!"

He heard Ezio chuckle. "Just don't tell Altair I told you. He wanted to tell you."

Desmond was smiling like a dork, humming and squirming where he stood. "I can't—to La Volpe! I—he—I mean—"

He heard Ezio chuckle. "Okay, try not to let the cat out of the bag. Altair's coming. I love you."

"I—you—La Volpe! I… yeah! Okay! I mean—I love you, too!"

He was squirming as he heard the phone switch hands.

"Desmond?"

He made a chirping noise, happy as a clam. "Altair!"

Altair chuckled. "It's good to hear from you. How are you doing? Have they been treating you well? And your medications?"

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. "I—I mean, you… I'm fine!"

He could practically hear Altair roll his eyes. "Are you sure? Ezio said they've been molesting—"

"I said I wanted it!" he shouted. "I don't mind it! Really! I promise! They haven't done _anything_ to me that I haven't wanted." He huffed. "Of course Ezio would twist my words for a fight."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," he growled. "I'm _fine_."

"Good. Where are you?"

Desmond was silent for a moment, looking at his feet and scuffing them against the floor. He shook his head, hoping he would get the message. Then he remembered Altair couldn't see him. "I… I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I can't… I promised. It's their safe haven, Altair."

"Then let me know—"

"I can't!" he shouted, panicking. If Altair knew where, then all of the books would be destroyed. "I can't! Because you'll call in the Empire, and then all the books here will be destroyed! I won't—I can't! I don't—you have no idea! It's incredible, Altair! There are books from before the Third World War here! I can't—I'm reading them, Altair! You can't! No!"

He had a death grip on the phone, staring at the wall as if Altair would materialize.

"Please," he whispered, looking back down at the floor. "Don't… I don't want to give it up. Please."

He could _hear_ Altair frown. "Desmond…"

"I know, Altair. I'm sorry."

"They aren't threatening you with—"

"NO, no, I promise! They aren't threatening me! I promise. There's no one else standing here with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"No one's listening in."

"Not from my line, no," he murmured. "Look, I'm really sorry, Altair, but, I mean…"

Altair sighed. "Desmond, I'm going to trust you."

He blinked rapidly at the statement.

"I can't help you without the location, but I'm going to trust you. If their safe haven means that much—"

"You'd love it, Altair!" he shouted. "It's so incredible! There's so many books here! Some from before the Third World War, some from before Gentek, some _from_ Gentek! Some from now!"

"You'll call me again."

"Of course! I promise! I mean, I love this place so much! I wish you could see it! And then we could read together like we used to back home! I know you love books almost as much as me! You'll find these _fascinating!_"

Altair chuckled again. Desmond was bouncing in his spot.

"I'll look forward to it, Desmond. Stay healthy. How are your medications?"

Desmond jolted, and he thought back to the bottle. "Uh… I think I'll need more soon. Where can I get them?"

Altair was silent for a minute. "I'll have to contact the man I got them from. Call me back in a few days."

"Right," he said, nodding even though Altair couldn't see him. "I will!"

"Do you have enough to last a few more days?"

"I should."

"Good. I'll see you soon enough."

"I love you, Altair."

"I love you, too, Desmond. Stay well."

"I will! You too, okay?"

He could heard Altair smile. "All right. Goodbye."

"Bye!"

As he hung up, he could've sworn he heard Altair growl, "Now speak, you invasive rat."

He blinked as he stared at the phone briefly before turning and walking off. He had a question he needed to ask Shaun about Gentek. He didn't know how they could've had all the technology to create the Blacklight virus if it was _after_ the Third World War.

He rooted around, asking one of the maids and the butler before he was pinned against the wall by Cross. With a grin, he remembered Ezio's words as he kissed him back. No molesting, here, nope, especially not when he was _begging_ to be touched. Afterward, he slumped against the wall, smiling at Cross, dazed as the bigger man picked him up and carried him to the library, plopping him down in Alex's lap all disheveled and thoroughly satisfied. The man was sitting in front of the fire in the library, relaxing, and as Desmond nuzzled into his arms, Alex seemed to purr with satisfaction. Desmond couldn't think of anything better as he drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

When he woke up, he was still curled with Alex on the couch, who now had some books beside him. He eyed them contemplatively.

"Shaun brought them for you. Said to read them, and tomorrow he would take you out to eat to talk about them."

Desmond blinked, surprised, then grinned. "Really?"

"Sounds… boring, so, if you don't want to go—"

"No! It's okay! I don't mind!" he crowed, nestling down against Alex as he picked up one called _The Secret Garden._

There was _The Scarlet Letter, The Three Musketeers, Call of the Wild, _and something called _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ As well as _Just So_ stories, and _Journey to the Center of the Earth_.

"He said that _The Picture of Dorian Gray _was really important."

He set down _The Secret Garden _and picked the other book, opening it carefully. Alex read over his shoulder, eventually huffing and telling him he was boring.

"It's not boring!" Desmond protested when Alex kissed his ear.

"I can think of _many_ other things we could be doing," Alex murmured, and Desmond shivered.

"I don't think—you've never been read to, have you?"

Alex raised an eyebrow when Desmond turned to look at him.

"What if I read the story to you?"

Alex scowled.

"That's what got me started on reading. Altair and I still do it. Still… did it…"

He settled back down as he waited for Alex's response, eventually feeling his arms tighten and a chin on his shoulder.

"Fine," Alex huffed. "Read to me."

Desmond smiled and turned back to the first page, reading aloud. Eventually, Alex did get hooked on the book and refused to let Desmond go until they were done.

"I liked it."

Alex was already picking up a second book, _Call of the Wild_, and handing it to him. "This one, now."

Desmond laughed, setting _The Picture of Dorian Gray _on his stomach. If it were important, he was going to bring it with him. "Are you sure? It might be bor—"

He was cut off when Alex bumped him, and he grunted.

"Read," Alex commanded, and Desmond grinned.

He knew he could get Alex hooked on reading. It wasn't hard if someone loved was reading it. They went through the entire stack of books that day, and even Kadar and Pariah joined them for a while, listening to him read the _Just So_ stories. Rebecca came and went, muttering to herself about designs and plans, and Malik even settled down to listen to him read _The Scarlet Letter_ and stayed, looking utterly relaxed in one of the comfortable chairs as Desmond read softly, so as not to disturb the library atmosphere.

By the time they were done, all of the pirates were gathered around, excluding Rebecca, who was working on the ship, he presumed, and Alex had him firmly caught in his arms, his eyes closed. When Desmond closed the book, he saw a tentacle prod at the table, and his eye crack open when there were no more books. He stared at the table, almost looking surprised.

"We're done," he murmured.

The others stirred. All save Malik, who was just looking over at them, disappointed. Desmond knew he was imagining Altair in his stead, which was okay by him. Anything to help him out, he supposed.

"I'm sure we could get another," he said, his voice cracking, and Cross chuckled.

"Sounds like your voice needs a break."

"I don't mind!" He smiled brightly. "I like reading."

"Well," he heard a suave voice say, and he looked to see Shaun come walking over with a book, a maid behind him with a tray of food, "if you do wish for another, I have one for you."

Desmond tilted his head, reaching out and taking the book as Shaun leaned on the back of the couch.

"Bloody awful mess of my books you left sitting out there, you bleeding twit."

Desmond grinning cheekily as he looked at the book: _Tales from the Arabian Nights_.

"I liked your selection."

"I figured a change from nonfiction might do you good. I didn't think you'd end up educating a bunch of monkeys at the same time."

Desmond laughed when Cross and Kadar protested, and Alex growled. Malik rolled his eyes.

"My apologies, Kadar. You were not included. You are quite a well-educated young man," Shaun said offhandedly, eyeing _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ seated securely in Desmond's lap as the maid set the tray down and gathered the other books.

"I liked it," Desmond said. "Can't say I felt bad for Dorian, but I liked it."

Shaun nodded. "I was certain you would like it. I've been itching for someone to have a pleasant conversation with. There's more to that story than you realize, Desmond."

He nodded. "You'll teach me, then, right?"

Shaun smirked, and Desmond jerked slightly. "Always open to learning, I see."

"Uh… Yeah?"

He patted the back of the couch as he took the books from the maid. "Good. Tomorrow at nine, then, we set out for late breakfast."

Desmond broke out into a grin. "Sure thing!"

"And as for you lummoxes, I have a new fetching for you. Kadar and Pariah excluded, as always, if they please. Desmond must remain here. I will not allow otherwise."

He adjusted the books in a basket by a ladder to reach the upper shelves of the library. Alex snarled, and Shaun shrugged at him.

"What is it this time?" Malik murmured. "Another wild goose chase?"

"Perhaps," Shaun said as he pushed the ladder to the right spot and started climbing, throwing them a dark and smug smirk, "but even if it is, our chase will soon be over."

Malik's eyes narrowed as he sat up, turning to look at Shaun easier. Alex was frowning, his arms tightening, and Cross didn't look too happy. Shaun gave a tooth-filled evil grin.

"For if I get what I want, then I will release all of you from your contracts."

There were a few murmurs Desmond couldn't understand, and all of them looked concerned, but he couldn't figure it out. At least Rebecca should be happy, he thought. Shaun seemed to almost be glowing with an excited, evil aura as he placed the books back in the shelf.

"For now, eat and relax. You lot have a busy day tomorrow."

Alex seemed to shrink down possessively around him, the virus thrumming with anger. Desmond rubbed his hand up and down Alex's arm, giving him a worried look, but Alex hissed and looked back down at the book.

"Unless you need to eat, read."

Despite the rumbling in his stomach, he figured he should take care of Alex, who was livid. He didn't understand what was so wrong with everything. Then, the question from earlier dawned on him.

"Just a second, Alex," he murmured. "Shaun, I have question."

"Of course," he said absentmindedly as he shelved another book.

"How did Gentek happen _after _the Third World War if everything was destroyed?"

Shaun paused, stopping the ladder and looking over his shoulder, adjusting his glasses to see him better. "There's more than just the Gentek virus that the Empire fears, Desmond."

"What do you mean?"

Shaun's lips curled upward again. "_I _am their single greatest enemy. _I_ showed them how to use the technology, and _I_ hired Doctor Alex J. Mercer, and most assuredly, _I_ was the one who designed and oversaw the construction of both the building and the Empire's fortresses."

His eyes widened, and Shaun laughed as he turned back to the shelves. "Yes, Desmond, you are in the presence of the world's most powerful man. If I choose to, I can destroy the Empire with a mere utterance. I can level the building with technology they haven't seen since Gentek. I am the power behind the Emperor, and _that's_ why they are so _eager_ for my death."

"W-wha—"

"But they cannot kill me. And as long as I live, I will use my power to my advantage. How else do you think this is a safe haven for my pirates? Not only are they both immortal and invincible, but they are also protected by my immunization from the law. The Empire cannot touch me."

Desmond was silent, floored by everything he was just told. He was trembling. _Shaun Hastings, famous book collector_, ran the Empire from behind the scenes. He was the world's most powerful man, and here he was, sitting in his presence, reading his books, _going to have late breakfast with him tomorrow as if he were just another human_.

"Desmond?" Alex murmured as Shaun continued shelving.

Desmond choked, covering his mouth with a hand as he tried to gather his thoughts. _Shaun was the world's most powerful man_. He could bring down the entire Empire with just a few words.

"Desmond?" Malik murmured, sounding concerned.

He wondered why such a powerful Empire used such little cruelty upon the people. Must have been threats from Shaun. Must have been Shaun. _That explained why the Empire couldn't be beaten_. They would use the pirates. They would use _Shaun's _pirates. They would use the exact men that Desmond had been offering up his body for, loving every minute he would worship them.

"Good job, fucktard," Cross growled. "You broke him."

He was trembling. He couldn't believe it. He had heard rumors of someone controlling the Emperors. He had heard rumors of someone playing underhandedly in destroying any opposing force. He had heard rumors that the reason certain Emperors died _wasn't actually because of natural causes, but murder._

"No more story?" Pariah asked, sounding disappointed.

"I-I—You…" Desmond said, looking up at Shaun and meeting that smug look.

"You may want to continue reading, Desmond. You'll have quite a disappointed audience if you don't."

He blinked, slowly gathering his thoughts enough to look back at the book.

"Shaun…" he murmured as he opened the book gently, listening to the growl Alex made.

He read the book, starting out only half paying attention, and ending up with Pariah in his lap, and him in Alex's, giving the characters voices and trying not to smile too much at Pariah's excited expression. When he went to Alex's room that night, after he took his medications, he was thoroughly distracted as Alex took him, joined by an insistent Kadar after Pariah was put to bed, and he decided it was a good choice to let himself stay with the pirates. Alex didn't mind Kadar joining him, instead grinning manically at ideas Kadar wanted to try.

Desmond didn't mind them at all. He thought he was going to die of pleasure that night, and he decided there was definitely a wickedly smart, twisted side to Kadar that no one had ever seen.

When he woke the next morning, stretching lazily and wincing once at the pain from all the new ideas, he smiled.

"You're awake," Alex murmured. "Kadar had to leave. Pariah woke up. He's insisting that they come with us."

"I wish I could," Desmond whispered as Alex drew him closer.

The fire wasn't burning in the hearth.

"If I knew I could persuade Shaun otherwise, I would."

"Why can't you just use force?"

"My contract forbids me from it."

"Really?"

"Yes," he growled. "I freeze up if I do _anything_ to raise a hand against him. It's the same for all of us. Except you."

Desmond frowned. "So what if I—"

"Don't. I don't want you to be harmed. Just… play it safe. Don't sign _anything_."

Desmond nodded. "And, uh… I mean, I know that you and Altair aren't on good terms, but, uh, could you—possibly—pick up more medications for me? I'm going to need them soon."

Alex sighed, a smile threatening to emerge. "Of course. I trust you'll be okay?"

"You sound like my brother," Desmond scowled as he sat up, and Alex scoffed.

"No, then I'd ask you six times because you're so airheaded."

He stuck his tongue out in response as Alex rolled out of bed, pulling on some clothes. He followed him out like a puppy, dressed in one of Alex's collared shirts and a pair of his slacks, held up by a belt because they were just a bit too big. His pirate gave him a crushing hug, making him _swear_ he wouldn't do anything suspicious Shaun asked him too, and he swore, waving them farewell as they took off, how to reach the ship via phone.

And he fell into a routine, again. Shaun seemed to revel in taking him out, and they would go for a late breakfast and dinner, lunchtime taken up by stories of the old world, or of the time before his. In between meals was spent either training to keep in shape or reading, and he found that regardless of what he was doing, Shaun seemed to enjoy his company. Although more than once, he had caught Shaun watching him almost absentmindedly as he read, or trailing his body almost lasciviously when he would strip down to the bare minimums to train when it got too hot.

And what made it even worse was, as he went out with Shaun and enjoyed the time they spent together, he _knew_ he was falling in love with the man—and it _hurt_ because he also loved _Alex._

Still, Desmond knew he shouldn't be. He shouldn't be falling in love with Shaun because there was _something_ the man was up to, because while Alex made his purpose clear, that wasn't how Shaun worked. Altair had taught him enough to know how to read people. As much as he _wanted_ to just live in his fanboy world, (thanks in part to his medication) he knew he couldn't ignore the fact the man _always _had an ulterior motive.

No matter how selfish.

Nevertheless, the man lived a routine life during the day. He knew there was more going on at night—he could hear the man walk around, the maids whisper, the telephone ring. He even put all his training to the test and followed him around one night about two months later. He was creeping behind him, listening in as he spoke on the phone, hidden.

"No, I was not aware. How far away is he?"

He used his position to watch as Shaun looked around, paranoid.

"That's…"

The silence dragged on, and he frowned when Shaun frowned.

"Then I'll have to act quickly. I think I've got him, but I'm not sure."

Shaun's frown turned into a scowl.

"Goodbye, sir."

He watched him hang up, and watched as Shaun's brow furrowed. Without a sound, he vanished to his room and nestled below the covers, getting a feeling that he should. Always follow the gut, Altair had taught him.

And sure enough, he heard his door open and close, and he could feel Shaun's presence. He could feel Shaun walk over beside him, and he closed his eyes lightly, mumbling and growling as he turned over, feeling Shaun step back, startled. His eyes were open just a crack, watching as the man gathered himself again before stepping back over and placing a hand in front of his nose. Desmond snorted, jerking away and grunting. Shaun scoffed, and he stretched, letting his eyes open blearily.

"S'aun?"

"Desmond," he murmured, sitting on the bed and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"'s up?" he slurred out.

"It's nothing, Desmond, go ahead and sleep."

"S'ay 'ere?"

Shaun frowned. He wanted to know what was going on.

"Not tonight," Shaun muttered. "Perhaps tomorrow."

Desmond hummed contentedly when he felt Shaun kiss his ear. How odd. Shaun was up to something. He needed to know what was happening tomorrow. After the man left, he sat up, climbing out and trailing him until the man went to bed. After thoroughly checking the house and noting which maid was up, he picked up the phone, putting on his best upset face as he slowly connected to the ship.

"'Sup?" he heard Rebecca answer, still sounding chipper.

"It's Desmond, can I speak to Alex?" he asked, sounding pathetic and shuffling his feet as he looked down.

Rebecca laughed. "Miss him?"

Desmond took a moment to set the phone down, check for the maid, then picked up the ear piece and held it to his mouth briefly before realizing his mistake and hurriedly picking up the other end.

"Look, Shaun's up to something. I need to talk to him. I don't know what the Hell he's planning—"

"Consider it done."

He set it down, checking again. He couldn't feel anyone around (his "family" was skilled at that), and he was right. After a moment, he heard Alex's voice come over the phone, and he picked it up.

"Alex?"

"Desmond, what's wrong?"

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but something will happen tomorrow, and it's something that's involving me, I think. I was listening in on Shaun's conversation with someone, and they were talking about how he thinks he's got _someone, _but he'd have to make sure—Alex, I love you," he changed suddenly, going from serious to heartbroken in a heartbeat as his gut told him someone was listening in. "I think I'll need more medication quickly because I'm starting to get paranoid that_ someone is watching me._"

Alex was quiet for a moment, deciphering what was said before he growled. "Just hold on, Desmond. I've gotten more medications for you, and I've sent _them_ on their way."

Desmond nodded. He didn't want to remain alone much longer. Especially with someone who could kill him in the open and get away with it. "How much longer will you be gone? I want you back."

"Not for another week or so. It took us longer to reach your brother and send him on his way than it did to get the book Shaun wanted us to fetch."

Desmond sighed. Whoever was watching him was still hiding.

"I miss you," he murmured, looking at his feet. "I want you back to sleep with. The bed is cold without you."

Alex chuckled. "Well, it should be sometime within the next three days your brother will get there. He ran to get you a new bottle of medications. La Volpe is coming with."

"Really? That close?" He sighed miserably. "That's too far."

"I know, Desmond. I _told_ Kadar he needed to stay. He's going to get it tomorrow."

"Please come home soon? I'm spending a lot of my time with Shaun, and I love it, but nighttimes are lonely, and I had a 'dream' that Shaun came in and sat beside me while I was sleeping."

"'Dream'?" Alex murmured. "As in, it wasn't?"

"Yeah," he breathed, sounding miserable. "And he promised me that he'd come sleep with me tomorrow, perhaps, and he kissed my ear."

"He did _what?_" Alex growled.

Desmond flinched. "I know. I'm sorry."

"He promised—Desmond, don't let him do _anything_. That man is _evil._"

"I know," he whispered. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm _lonely_."

"I'm coming home. I'm going to wake up Malik right now, and he and Kadar are going to switch off flight schedules until we get home. You _cannot _trust him."

"I know, Alex."

"And I _promise_ that regardless of how much I hate the Great Eagle, he and I will protect you."

He nodded, standing there sullenly for a moment before he realized, again, that Alex couldn't see him.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"I know you can take care of yourself," Alex growled, "but Shaun is _not human_."

"I know."

"I'm going to let you go now—be on guard."

"I know."

"And don't be afraid to run."

"I know."

He thought he heard Alex smile.

"Goodbye, Desmond."

"Hey, Alex?"

The man hummed, and Desmond found himself suddenly _terrified_, because here he was, alone, in a house with a man who could do _anything_ to _anybody_ and get away with it, and all of his servants were probably all loyal to him. He was _alone_, and he was going to _die_ because he knew too much.

"Desmond?"

His voice cracked as he poured on the theatrics for the man, "I want you back."

"I know, Desmond, I know."

"I'm _terrified_," he murmured. "There's no way I can survive if I'm fighting an _immortal_, perhaps stay alive for a while, but _I'll die._"

"I'm coming for you," Alex growled. "And so is your brother. We won't let you die."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Desmond was quiet for a moment before he muttered, "Can I call you again tomorrow maybe?"

"Whenever you need to."

"Okay."

"Good night, Desmond."

"Good night."

And as he hung up, he rested his head against the wall, making sure to hide the grin that split his lips. Sure, Shaun had their contract to protect him, but Desmond had their _willingness_ to protect him. And even if they couldn't raise a finger to harm their contractor, the fanboy _knew _the pirates could throw up one Hell of a defense if they did so desire. And they would to protect him over Shaun in a heartbeat. His gut told him, and his gut was _never_ wrong.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

He jumped, making himself look startled as he backed away from the maid. She paused, and he looked down at his feet.

"I'm just lonely, and perhaps a little afraid."

"Why is that? We've seen you training."

He glanced at her briefly. "Yeah, but Shaun's immortal. And always planning something. What if he decides just to stab me one night? I don't have a contract with him: I'm going to die. Not to mention, I bet you guys could over power me."

The maid chuckled.

"I'm going to bed. See you in the morning?" he asked, walking off quickly and going to Alex's room.

He locked the door behind him and moved the bureau set in front of it. Sure, Shaun was in shape, but he wasn't _that _strong. Desmond knew this. The man never worked out, and if he didn't work out, then his muscles, while shapely, were not developed.

It took an extra three hours for him to fall asleep that night.


	7. Chapter 7

When he did wake, it was to the polite sound of someone knocking. With his heart in his stomach, he dressed in Alex's shirt again, pulling on the pants and belting them before he moved the bureau and walked out to breakfast. With his heart in his stomach, he met Shaun at the door.

"Ready?"

He nodded absentmindedly, walking alongside him. Shaun was quiet for a moment, and Desmond could feel his gaze on him. He was, actually, feeling a bit lonelier now that he had called Alex and heard him speak. He was super lonely, truthfully. He wanted Alex back now. He wanted him in bed right now, so he could curl up against him and not worry anymore.

"What's wrong, Desmond?"

Desmond shrugged. All he had to do was stay alive until Alex or his brother got here. Which shouldn't be too bad, because they ate out. So it wasn't as if the food was poisoned—unless he had paid the chefs to do it. But that didn't make sense, because Shaun could murder him right now and get away with it.

"Surely you aren't lonely, are you?"

He shook his head, then shrugged. "A little. I'm just… used to nights and mornings with Alex."

"You seemed fine up until today."

"Yeah," he sagged. "I know. But I broke down and called Alex last night. Made me realize how lonely I was. And the place is kinda spooky now that he's gone, too. Really, now that all of the pirates are gone."

Shaun nodded, looking at him as they ignored the cityfolk passing by. "Understandable. You don't get nightmares easily, do you?"

"No," he said, "as long as I'm on my medication."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Alex said he was bringing me more."

"Good. Otherwise I'd have to order him to."

They were silent as they walked to their favorite little café. They sat in silence for a while before Shaun sighed.

"The reason why I asked is because there's something I wish to show you tonight."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Shaun settled back, looking away and into the street. "Something extraordinarily important to me."

Desmond tilted his head. "Really? I've already seen your library."

"That, despite what you may think, is not the most important thing I own."

He damned his fanboy-ishness as he perked up and scooted closer. "What is, then?"

Shaun offered him an amused smile. "That would ruin the surprise, now, wouldn't it? All I can tell you is that it is horrifying, and if you are squeamish or are liable to get nightmares at all, I would not suggest taking up my offer."

Damn nightmares, now he was curious. "What is it?"

Shaun chuckled, still looking amused on his behalf. "You will see later tonight. Perhaps around lunchtime, if you wish, since the nighttime is infinitely more frightening."

"Lunchtime!" he said, squirming in his seat. "Yeah! Then!"

He had no idea what could be more important than that library. All fear forgotten, he kept pressing Shaun until they were done eating and back at the hideaway. He followed at Shaun's heels like a puppy up to the second floor, following him into an attic-like room. Shaun took off his suit jacket as Desmond looked around, standing in the doorway just in case he needed to flee.

"Uncover the eyes, please," Shaun barked.

"W-what—what the Hell is going on?"

Desmond was paralyzed in his spot, watching as the wall parted and out came two white arm-like things. The walls moved apart, revealing a small gray room lit by blue candlelight that was contained within glass tubes. There was a sheet of glass covering something. He was drawn forward. He couldn't quite make out what it was: whatever was behind the glass severely deteriorated.

"This is what is most important to me."

He was drawn toward it, wary of approaching. There was something enticing about it, and he was curious to see what artifact of the oldest world he was looking at. He couldn't make out anything about it, drawn closer and closer until he was standing right in front of it, the blue light hardly illuminating it. There was a strip of cloth draped across part of it.

"If you look close enough, it's me."

He jumped. Shaun was looking over his shoulder at the glass case. He stared at it, not seeing the picture.

"I don't…"

"Here," Shaun offered, walking back to the entrance and standing with his back turned. "Uncover the eyes, please."

He jumped when the arm-like things started moving behind the glass wall. They removed the cloth, and he yelped. There were eyes. Serious-looking eyes. The whole picture seemed to come together then.

There was a person, standing in the middle of it. It was creepy. The skin was wrinkled and peeling, half-decaying straight from the flesh. There were blood trails over the dried, and shriveled skin stretched around the eyes. In the background, he could make out the outline of many different people. Some of them looked like they were dying, others as if they were weeping. And they didn't look normal. They were surreal almost. He could almost make out who they were. He was drawn back to the eyes, which seemed to be staring straight at him, reading him. They looked jealous, greedy, _evil._

"It's me."

He turned and stared at Shaun's back. "W-what?"

"Do you remember _The Portrait of Dorian Gray?_"

He inhaled sharply. "W-what?"

"It's me," Shaun said, gesturing without turning around. "That picture."

He turned back and looked at it. There was some resemblance to Shaun. His eyes were drawn back to the eyes of the painting. They were haunting. This is what Shaun looked like inside.

"If you wish," Shaun began, "you no longer must stay with me, now knowing just what I have done."

He turned back to the painting, his eyes drawn back to staring at the painting's eyes. He couldn't even actually concentrate on the background or the skin, but only through his peripheral vision. It was terrifying.

"B-but…"

He lifted his fingers to touch the glass lightly, almost wishing he could touch the painting.

"It has been the first time in several months I have looked at it. It is not that pleasant for me, if you could have guessed. If you pay attention carefully, my soul, now so corrupted, and the canvas, so deteriorated, have the images of those I have hurt residing in the background."

Desmond studied it closely, ripping his eyes away from the painting's eyes long enough to strain to try to pick out the people. He thought he saw Kadar weeping in it, the remnants of a blue pair of eyes and tanned skin barely there.

"Is that…"

"If you're going to say 'Kadar,' undoubtedly, he is portrayed."

Desmond's eyes grew wide. "W-why did you—"

"It was necessary. Despite the fact that I love him, I cannot be with him. Malik would never listen again."

"But…"

"The contract simply states he will work for me, and cannot raise a hand against me."

Desmond was quiet. Part of him _wanted_ to believe that Shaun still loved Kadar—but he doubted Shaun could "love" in the first place. Kadar looked so broken in the picture. He wondered if—

"Is there a way to fix the picture?"

"Perhaps, but I fear I have been doing evil for so long I cannot remember _how_ to do good."

His gut said that he shouldn't buy into that.

His heart said that he should help him.

And his gut was always right.

But his heart was _so much _more convincing.

He blinked, his brows knitting together as he _longed_ to see the painting fixed. Perhaps he could try to help Shaun for a little bit. Just enough to fix the background.

His heart rejoiced.

His gut tightened.

There was something else gnawing at him from the corner of the painting. He focused on the blurry image, eventually outlining eyes and a face, and there was something so familiar about this man. He _knew _he had seen a man similar to the blob in the corner, and he was _certain _he could identify him if he could just _see_ him a bit better. He seemed to be dying, writhing in pain and bleeding from a wound on his forehead, and then it clicked.

_That was Rebecca's fiancé._

His eyes widened. He _knew_ he knew that face. He _knew _it. He had seen the man in the obituary from the newspapers he had read in the town of Majibul. _Shaun_ had murdered Rebecca's fiancé. Just as he had broken Kadar's heart to get to Malik.

So then, he had to wonder why was playing nice with him.

Unless…

"Altair and Gilberto," he murmured, straightening and stumbling back.

Shaun was using him to get to Altair and Gilberto. He looked at the man's back, and he could _feel _his heart sinking.

But his gut told him otherwise.

Perhaps his gut wasn't _always_ right.

He looked back to the picture, back at the eyes. He was ready to punch the glass and rip it into shreds, but the eyes stopped him.

The eyes _weren't_ evil. They were _panicked._

He was going crazy. He had taken his medications. He knew he had. Both that morning and last night to help calm his fear and paranoia Shaun was going to kill him. He needed to call Altair. His medications weren't working right anymore. _The painting was changing before his eyes._

He forced himself to look at the floor and muttered, "Cover the eyes, please."

He jumped when the arm things actually listened to him. He covered his face with his hands and sunk to his knees. He just wanted to go home. He didn't want to be here anymore. Shaun was too much. Shaun was… more than he could handle. He just wanted to go _home_. _With Alex._

"Desmond?"

He felt Shaun walk over and place a hand on his shoulders. With a grunt, he jerked away and rose, glaring at him, hurt. Sure, he had expected to be used by the man just as he had been used by the pirates, but he hadn't expected to be used to lure his brothers into a _trap._ He snarled, shaking his head.

"Stay away from me, you filthy piece of shit."

Shaun looked genuinely surprised. "D-Desmond?"

"I won't let you get your hands on Altair and Gilberto. I won't let you contract them!"

Shaun blinked, rising slowly with his hands on the cane head. "Desmond, what are you talking about?"

"I know what you're doing! You're using me to get to Altair and Gilberto so you can contract them into service! And then you'll own their souls just like you own everyone else's! I won't let you own them!"

Shaun blinked again. "Desmond, what nonsense are you talking about?"

"I _knew_ I heard Altair call someone an 'invasive rat' over the phone when I called him! He was talking to you!"

Shaun raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. "So you overheard that."

"Yes, I did! And you won't—"

He waved a hand dismissively, causing Desmond to shut his mouth, his hands curling into fists as he trembled with rage.

"Desmond, listen. How does a contract happen?"

"When two people agree with something and sign a piece of paper."

"More or less. Now, what happens if one of them doesn't agree?"

"Then he doesn't sign it."

"Bingo. So, if Altair doesn't agree—"

"You'll use the pirates to force him."

Shaun huffed. "Listen: they do not have to fight for me. They choose to because they want to. They cannot raise a hand against me to injure me. Foolish of me not to make sure they must fight for me, but I was naïve to the fact they might. But, I am their enemy, so to speak. I am also Altair's enemy, because I have his baby brother under my charge. Now, Alex and Altair may not be on good terms, but if I am a common enemy, then Alex will not stop him from attempting to kill me."

Desmond gave him a wary look, and Shaun held up his hand in surrender.

"I swear by it, Desmond. You can ask Alex when he returns."

"Then why does he listen to you?"

"Because I give him employment and immunity from the law in exchange for his service. I could rip his contract in half and feed him the 'antidote' to the Blacklight virus if I wished, but I have chosen not to."

Desmond frowned, his fists loosening slightly. "I don't get it."

"Cover the eyes, please," Shaun said offhandedly, and Desmond jumped when the wall started to move again. "The fact of the matter is, Desmond, Altair will not have to sign anything if he wishes. I am sure that Alex has contacted him by now, and they have reached a truce. It will take more than just luring them here to convince them to sign a contract, I am sure. You trust your older brother more than me. I will have to work if I wish to recruit him. No doubt the others have already poisoned him against me."

Desmond stepped backward. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will, Desmond. I cannot change your mind. Regardless, I will be in the library if you wish to speak."

With that, he turned and left, leaving Desmond standing there, a scowl on his face. As much as he didn't want to admit it, what Shaun said made sense. He looked at the wall again, now covered and the painting sealed safely within. He didn't know why Shaun had chosen to show him. Without a second thought, he rushed out, back to his room, and pushed the bureau in front of the door before curling under his covers and attempting to block out any confusing thoughts.

It was later that night before he emerged again, taking his medications as he walked out to find Shaun. He stepped into the main room of the library, sitting down with a huff next to Shaun on a couch. He stared at the fire, ignoring Shaun's raised eyebrow. The man was looking through some thick text, an ancient tomb, by the looks of it.

"Can I help you?"

"I don't want to talk to you."

Shaun rolled his eyes as Desmond sat there, scowling. He didn't want to believe what Shaun was saying. He actually didn't. Both his gut and his heart were in agreement with that, and he knew that he was lining up for heartache if he kept playing friends with him. Eventually, tired of watching the fire, his mind blank, he slouched against the cushions.

"Why did you tell me I couldn't go with them on the mission?"

Shaun hummed briefly, setting the old tomb down and looking at him. "Why did I… Ah, I see. Simply enough, I enjoy your company. No one else has provided me with the same level of conversation you have."

"Why not?"

"They're all Neanderthals. Even Kadar, although he is a step above the others. The boy is smart, but not at all willing to argue, despite the fact that I _cannot_ kill him. And then you come traipsing in with the monkeys, looking as if you belong with them, and you're _mortal_, above all things, _itching_ for an argument and _eager_ for intelligent conversation. You're an attractive person, Desmond. Both physically and mentally."

"I don't believe you. How do I know you're not just using me?"

"How do I know you're not just using me?"

"Huh?" Desmond blinked, looking at Shaun.

The man met his gaze, completely serious. His hands were folded in his lap, and his lips were in a thin line.

"I asked, 'how do I know that you aren't using me?'"

"W-what?"

"I mean, you use my funding to eat, you read my books, use my previous experience in reading them for conversation. You use my brain to sate your curiosity about the old worlds. You use _my _pirates for companionship, and you certainly didn't fight to go with them on the mission."

He tilted his head, and Shaun waved a hand back and forth.

"It's what a relationship is, Desmond. Friends, brothers, lovers, parents. It's about the give and take. You use me—I use you. You use Alex—he uses you."

Desmond frowned. "What?"

"You use me for necessities and conversation, and I use you for much the same conversation. You use Alex for protection and a warm body in bed, someone to fulfill your wild fantasies and daydreams, and he uses you for sex and reassurance he's not a monster."

Desmond snorted. "That's bull."

"Which part?"

"Alex uses me for reassurance he's not a monster."

Shaun laughed harshly. "It's true. Did he not imply that? Of course not, the man has as many subtleties as a herd of stampeding elephants. He doesn't know how to handle social situations. There is no social grace in him. You give him a feeling of humanity again."

Desmond blinked, then frowned and opened his mouth.

"Yes, yes, I know: you don't believe me. There is a reason he has slept with you more than once, and controlled himself in his purest state enough to let you play with it, rather than just snapping you in half and eating you like an hors d'oeuvre at a cocktail party. You make him feel as if he were human."

Desmond gave him a disbelieving look.

"Do you understand what I am saying now? Of course I'm using you—just as you are using me."

Desmond pursed his lips, looking back at the fire and exhaling softly. "I… suppose."

"You suppose?"

"I mean, you make relationships seem so… _negative_ that way."

"Reality is not often pleasant."

He was quiet for a few minutes. So Alex did, actually, value him. Perhaps. He hoped. Shaun seemed to think so. Shaun also liked him. He smiled softly. Shaun _liked _him for who he was. So did Alex. He broke out into a full grin. He was no longer the dorky kid who dreamed of sky pirates anymore. _He was the attractive kid who was liked by sky pirates_.

"What on earth are you thinking about to make you smile like a goonie?"

Desmond turned to him. "Can we go out to eat?"

Shaun scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stood. "Nothing more than a man, after all. Thinking with your stomach."

Desmond laughed. "Can you tell me more about the Third World War?"

Shaun sighed, sounding put-upon as he walked with him into the darkened streets to go to their favorite café. And he wasn't entirely sure how, but once they returned, Desmond found himself relaxing on Shaun's bed, his head on his chest as he lay on him, listening to him talk about fighting in the war. It was fascinating, and every time he told the story, he added in details he had forgotten, now reminded of. Shaun was rubbing his back, talking quietly as he listened, and he yawned, emotionally drained from the fear and paranoia he had been feeling all day. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the final fight that almost destroyed the world.


	8. Chapter 8

When Desmond woke up, he was surprised to feel weight in his arms, rather than have someone holding him. He inhaled deeply, smelling cologne and pricey soaps, yawning.

"You're awake."

His eyes shot open, and he stared at the back of Shaun's head, who was nestled into his arms. The man yawned, stretching, and Desmond sat up, looking back down. Shaun grunted as he relaxed, rolling on his back.

"You are quite a cuddler. I can see why Alex enjoys sleeping with you."

Desmond blushed. "W-what?"

"Not only do you give off heat," Shaun said, stretching again and yawning as he adjusted to recline in the pillows, "but also, you cuddle. You fell asleep with me holding you, so I pushed you to the other side of the bed, and when I woke, you were hugging me like a teddy bear."

Desmond looked away. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. It's easier to stay warm that way."

He smiled, scratching his head sheepishly. "I know, but…"

"Don't worry about Alex. He won't do anything."

Desmond looked at his feet.

"What?"

"I mean…"

"It's not cheating on him, if that's what you mean."

Desmond scoffed, wiggling his toes under the warm sheets as he glared at Shaun, his hands fisting in the sheets in his lap. The man sighed.

"Although I couldn't blame you if you did cheat on him. He's not exactly gentle, is he?"

He sighed this time, thinking about how much easier it was to work now that the pain in his back was gone. None of them were gentle, really.

"No… they're not."

"Haven't you ever wanted something a bit more… romantic? Perhaps slower and a bit gentler?"

Desmond scoffed, sitting Indian style as he looked at his hands. He was not that much of an open book. "It wouldn't happen."

Shaun laughed quietly, and he whipped his head around so quickly to look at the man that it almost hurt. The man had a hand over his mouth, and for the first time, he realized that he had taken off the suit jacket and gloves, his necktie gone and the top few buttons undone. His glasses were skewed from the angle he had tried to put them on at, and Desmond noted he looked good in glasses. He frowned at Shaun when he saw the look he was giving him.

"What?"

Shaun shook his head and looked at him, giving him a soft, almost flirty look. "Desmond…"

He stiffened, his mouth going dry as he watched the man lift a hand to gently cup his cheek, brushing a thumb gently against his lips.

"Desmond, Desmond, Desmond," Shaun said, almost as if he were chastising him. "All you have to do is ask."

His eyes widened as the man leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I—I… You—"

He tried valiantly to swallow. Shaun's soft look went to an amused one. "Those brutes are never going to treat you like that. When what the last time you assumed the dominate roll, hm? Surely your pride wants you to assume control at least _once_."

Desmond jerked, held firmly by the thumb and the forefinger grasping his chin. "I-I…"

"Would you like to?"

He shouldn't. He actually shouldn't. He had Alex, and Alex was good. Still, he surmised, he had always wanted to know what it felt like to take it slow. There was something alluring about being gentle. There was something alluring about being in charge. Nevertheless, this was _Shaun_, the conniving mastermind of the entire world, offering to sleep with him and let him be in control. And he could feel his stomach twisting in knots as Shaun gently cupped his cheek, and it had been almost _two months_ now since he last saw Alex. But Alex would be home soon, and he could almost feel that burn in his backside again, and now he didn't actually want it. Here was the man who had treated him so nicely. Shaun had lent him books he would never have seen otherwise; he had given him the best conversations; he had taken him out to eat without expecting to be paid back; he wasn't demanding he get a job to help pay, and he had never asked for anything in return. He wasn't even pushing the idea of sex. He was offering himself up. Sure, he had _demanded_ that he stay to converse with him, but Desmond was the one who was benefitting most from it because he learned so much. He didn't even know what Shaun was getting out of the "relationship."

He felt himself leaning in for a kiss before he knew what he was doing. The kiss was warm and slow, and it was like nothing he had from Alex. Shaun's touches were gentle, caressing, as if he had had millions of lovers and knew exactly how to treat them to make them feel _wonderful_ about themselves. He probably had. It was so different from Alex.

Afterward, he had Shaun in his arms again, and he was excited. He liked it—even though Shaun had taken over halfway through. Which wasn't too surprising, because Desmond wasn't sure how to act the part of a dominant, not after living under Altair and Ezio, who were naturally dominating, and all he wanted to do was sink into the background. He was better at disappearing, rather than taking over. Ever since his brother had died, he was more content just to go with things and try to hide—try to not be stared at sympathetically every time he tried to talk about one of his illusions or such. Nevertheless, Shaun seemed content, humming as if he were pleased as he nestled into his arms.

"How on earth could you not know what the _lubricant_ was for?"

"I-I never—"

"Those uncouth idiots," Shaun said as he rolled over and pressed his face against his chest. "You must have had a terrible ache in your back."

Desmond shrugged, pursing his lips.

"You'd thought I was trying to burn your dick off when I brought it out."

"It was _warm_."

"It was nice—and I wouldn't have let you enter me without it."

Desmond was silent for a moment, pulling him a little closer.

"Yeah," he muttered as he stared at the head of brown hair. "Yeah, it was nice."

He could've sworn he felt Shaun smirk, but he couldn't stop himself from asking if they could do it again sometime. It felt good to be "in charge" for once.

"Any time you wish, Desmond," Shaun responded.

Desmond couldn't help but wonder what the Hell he had gotten himself into. His gut was telling him there was some reason he was so willing to enter something like that. He couldn't figure out what, since the man had some logic about the whole contract thing. Still, there must have been _something_ the man wanted—something he had probably overlooked and would regret later. Nevertheless, when he felt Shaun exhale, sounding utterly content, he couldn't help but smile.

Eventually, someone came knocking. "Master Hastings?"

It was a maid, but the sound of the voice.

"Yes?"

"There's a man here who says he has business with you, but won't say what."

"All right, I'll be down in a few minutes. Bloody bugger. Probably didn't even warn me he was coming."

He frowned as Shaun sighed miserably.

"Let go of me."

"You could easily break out of this."

"No, I couldn't, you idiot. Let me go."

Desmond rolled his eyes before lifting his arm up, the other trapped beneath Shaun. He waited patiently for a little bit, and the man showed no signs of moving.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You need to get up."

"Whoever it is can wait."

"For how long?"

"However long I decide. It's his mistake not telling me he was coming."

Desmond rolled his eyes again, settling his arm back around Shaun's waist. After a few seconds, he grinned evilly, adjusting to place his feet in line with the man's back while the man complained about what the hell he had been doing. Then, without warning, he pushed with his legs and laughed as Shaun yelped and fell on the floor with the covers. He saw a face appear over the side of the bed, and he gave him a shit-eating grin. The man scowled as he placed his glasses back on.

"Y-you bloody ignorant—"

"Go on! Get clean!" he said with flick of his hands, grinning. "You got guests."

He leaned back and watched as Shaun griped and complained the entire time he got dressed. Then as he went to exit the room, he turned at looked at him.

"And if you're going to come down, you'd better look presentable. Last time I'm ever letting you in my bed," he muttered.

Eventually, Desmond got up, cleaned, dressed in his clothes (immediately feeling guilty because they were _Alex's_, and he had just, technically, cheated on him), and wandered downstairs slowly. He almost hoped that whoever it was wasn't Alex. He prayed it wasn't because he didn't want to look him in the eye and say, "Hey, yeah, I had sex with the man you told me to avoid."

"Desmond?"

He looked to see Altair standing there, a small bag on his arm, and his eyes grew wide. He broke out into a grin and dashed forward, hugging him tightly. Altair cradled the back of his head, the other arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He could feel Altair's heartbeat through their clothes, and he grinned. His brother was here. He pulled back, looking at him, and he jerked when his brother laughed quietly.

"I've never seen you like this. You're almost glowing you look so healthy."

His eyes lit up. "Altair, there's so much you have to hear! It's like the best thing ever! I—"

"I'm gonna cut you off there, kiddo," his older brother murmured. "I need to talk to Shaun. Go take your medication, and change into some non-wrinkled clothes."

He bounced off, back to his room, and was in the middle of changing his pants when he heard something. He paused, looking over his shoulder and frowning. Once he was satisfied there was nothing in his room, and it was all a trick of the mind, he pulled on the pants and took off his shirt.

"Not even dressing in your own clothes?"

Desmond froze. He recognized that voice. His eyes narrowed as he pulled on Alex's shirt.

"I don't see why I should," he said nonchalantly, buttoning it up. "I like his clothes, and he left them here."

"He'll be back soon."

"I know. Are you going to stop creeping and just get out here?"

He turned to see Gilberto leaving the room with a smug look. "La Volpe simply came to check on you. Glad to you're doing well."

He watched the man leave the room, then sat on the bed, covering his face with his hands. He was getting into some deep shit. He had no idea what was going to happen, but now Altair and Gilberto were here, and Shaun was going to use them, manipulate them somehow, and he was locked in the middle of it. He lay back, staring at the ceiling as his mind wandered back to Shaun's bed. It was so soft, and it smelled so good—of course, the gentle touches Shaun gave him made his cheeks blush and his heart beat faster. He thought that the blood was suppose to run _south_, but apparently, he decided to act like a girl with his blushing over the fact that the man had actually gone slow.

He covered his face as he lamented the loss of his masculinity. He was in love with Alex, and the man loved him back. The man was—the man was _Zeus._ He was everything Desmond had ever wanted. He was everything Desmond had ever _dreamed_. He loved Alex more than he valued his own life. But Shaun—Shaun was making things so much more complicated. He was advancing slower, gentler, acting as if he was so much more precious than he ever imagined. He let him try to take the lead. He gave him so many, many things and expected hardly anything in return.

He jerked when someone pounded at the door. "Desmond!"

He rushed to the door and opened it to find Altair standing there, a serious look on his face as he was shoved back and the door was slammed shut and locked. He moved back to the bed and sat, absolutely terrified. He didn't know what Shaun had told his older brother, but whatever it was, he was going to get an earful.

"Desmond. Does Shaun have you—"

"I don't have a contract with him."

Altair's frown deepened, and he shrank back slightly, clasping his hands in his lap. He sat stiffly, watching him. He watched as Altair looked him over, and he offered a weak smile when they met gazes.

"We're leaving."

Desmond blinked. "W-what?"

"We're leaving. Now."

"W-why?"

Altair was rooting around in his room, gathering random things. "You can continue to see Alex if you like, but we're leaving."

"Why?"

"Don't ask questions. Just get ready."

He frowned. He was eighteen. He could make his own decisions, and he'd be damned if he left before he read every book in the fucking library.

"No."

Altair froze, and Desmond flinched. He was in for it now. The man straightened, turning around, and he'd be damned for back-talking to his older brother. Those golden eyes narrowed, and he swallowed, frowning. He wasn't backing down.

"Get ready."

"No. I don't want to leave."

"I said get ready."

"I'm not going to. I'm staying here."

"You're leaving."

"No."

"You're telling me that you aren't going to listen?"

"No. I'm telling you I'm not going to follow you. I heard what you said."

"Desmond, your life is in danger—"

"Alex will protect me. I'm staying here."

"You can see Alex back home."

"No. I'm seeing Alex here."

"Desmond—"

"Look, Altair, I like it here. I want to stay with Alex and the other pirates. I really like them."

"You can see them at home."

"And I like Shaun and his books. I _really_ like Shaun and his books. I'm not leaving. Period."

There was tense silence as he stared down Altair. The man was fuming with rage: he hated to be disobeyed. Eventually, his older brother inhaled deeply, pursing his lips, and walked out. Desmond blinked, exiting the room to follow him. When he eventually found him, he was in the library, and Shaun was leaning on his cane, smirking. He hid carefully on the upper floor of the library. His gut told him that Gilberto was near, and he made sure to hide himself even more carefully.

"I _told_ you that he wouldn't want to leave. Hook, line, and sinker, Altair. Love is a tough game to play, and I've had over a thousand years to learn the rules."

Altair growled, and he saw his fists curl. "Release him from the spell."

"I'm afraid there is no magic cure for love."

"You—"

He watched as Shaun leaned in close, and he realized he'd have to get closer. With a soft curse, he slid from his spot, navigating through the shadows just as he used to do in the monasteries. With a smile, he slid into the lower part of the library, moving stealthily until he was just a few feet away.

"—ll be? Hm? Break his heart, when he's happy and satisfied, when he has everything he's ever wanted, when he _finally_ feels as if he's worth something? Or will you let him remain?"

"You're a terrible person, Hastings."

He shivered at the sound of his laughter. It was chilling, bitter—the epitome of "Evil Laughter." He had always imagined it to sound spooky, and now he knew what it sounded like. And the man just seemed to suit it. His head thrown back, eyes close beneath those frames, the finally pressed suit, and the ever-proper posture—Desmond's eyes grew wide. This man terrified him.

Shaun leaned in and hissed, "So what will it be, Altair? I can give him _so much more_ than you could ever hope of giving him. Did you ask him about this morning? Did his eyes light up? Did he blatantly disregard your command to leave? Humor me. Stay a while. Help me out. It's not _me_ that will get hurt if you don't."

Desmond swallowed—oh, yeah, he had just gotten into a bigger mess than before. He sent a silent prayer to his brother, telling him he loved him and that perhaps he should have just gone the crazy route. Altair was standing chest-to-chest with the man, a finger at his chest.

"I know very well that Alex won't lift a finger against you, but I know even better that he'll defend Desmond until his dying breath."

"Really? Are you certain, Ibn-La'Ahad? The man is a sky pirate. Before that, he was the world's cruelest scientist. Those memories haven't left him. Rather, they plague his conscious and settle in his soul. They're driving him _mad. _It's just a matter of time before he snaps and _kills your descendant._"

"He wouldn't do that."

"Are you sure? Are you positive? Because as I recall, the last time you two met, you were at each other's throats, trying to kill each other. Just how much _do_ you know about him, Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad? Why, Desmond admitted just this morning how nice it was _not_ to be in pain after having sex. Your descendant is in love with monsters."

"He's less of a monster than you—"

"If La Volpe may interrupt this delightful conversation," Gilberto said as he appeared from nowhere. The two men paused in their debate, and Desmond watches as those purple eyes stare straight where he is hiding. "He wishes to inform you that you have a set of ears listening and a set of eyes watching. This is not good."

"Gilberto, you're being paranoid," Altair hissed. "No one is here—I can't feel Desmond here."

Gilberto snorted, gesturing over toward him, and Desmond's eyes grew wide as both Altair and Shaun turned to look in his direction. He had to get out of here. The split moment he saw them look back at Gilberto, he slipped off to a different hiding spot.

Only to have his hiding spot given away by the yelp he let out when Gilberto appeared in front of him. He shrank back when Altair came over, waving meekly and smiling. Altair looked floored.

* * *

><p><strong>Hehe. It's not done. I promise.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

"Desmond?"

"H-hi?"

"When did—how—"

"I must admit: the boy's skills are impressive. I didn't even know he was here until he moved down to the first floor."

He was about ready to piss his pants. He was cornered by both Altair and Gilberto, and if he escaped with all his limbs, he'd be happy.

"How did you…"

When Altair looked at Gilberto, Desmond seized his chance, slipping out of the spot and running through the room—only to be caught by an arm in a soft grey suit. He tensed, waiting for something to happen, but Shaun only laughed.

"You're a remarkable young lad," the man said, and Desmond felt compelled to look at him.

The mirth in his eyes was so much different from the terrible laughter a few minutes ago. He watched as Shaun took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently. He blushed, cursing his inability to be a man, and the man just met his gaze and gave him that _alluring_ smile. When it was like this, and the man was just turning on the charm, he was almost able to forget about everything. Besides, it wasn't as if he had said anything particularly bad.

"So intelligent and sneaky. I can't think of many who could outwit 'La Volpe.'"

He found himself smiling under the praise. This man wasn't as bad as just a few minutes before; otherwise, he wouldn't be saying such things. Besides, Shaun was right: he _finally_ felt as if he was worth something. "Th-thanks. I-I had to learn to get around the monks."

"I do remember you mentioning them."

His gut was telling him he was headed straight for stormy seas, but with the way his heart was pounding in his chest, he wanted to stay just a little longer. This man remembered more about him than anyone else. He actually found his skills impressive.

"I've seen some of those monks. Paranoid bastards, they are."

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding. "But I did it!"

His heart was still beating ridiculously fast, but as scared as he was when Shaun had laughed, he felt slightly safer here near Shaun rather than waiting for Altair's fury. The man let go of his hand and smiled. It was such a warm smile that he couldn't help but melt a little.

"Indeed, you did. I'm sure you'll make an excellent thief."

He grinned, bouncing back a pace. "Yeah. I'm hoping that I get to read your library first."

Shaun laughed warmly, and he gave him a soft look. "Rest assured, Desmond, as long as you're here, my library is yours to read."

Desmond beamed. "That's awesome. I'm so excited. All of these books? They're so cool."

He squirmed as Shaun leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're a remarkable young man, Desmond. It's a pity that others don't see what I see, but then again, not many of them have had almost fifteen hundred years to know how to see the true value in something."

"I know very well how valuable those skills are, Hastings. Leave my brother out of this."

He looked over his shoulder as Gilberto and Altair walked back over, and he yelped when Shaun wrapped an arm around his waist. He watched as the cane snapped at Altair's feet.

"And that's where you're wrong, Altair. This boy's mind could be carved into something most beautiful, but instead, it's going to be wasted on a life of thieving and petty revenge." Shaun sighed dramatically, and Desmond slipped out of his hold. "I can bring his mind about to its full potential. I can give him what he needs to _excel_."

Desmond backed up to leave the library. He didn't want any more confusion. He could have sworn he heard malicious undertones to what Shaun had said to Altair, but he couldn't see why Altair was so upset that Shaun was willing to teach him. He didn't understand. Perhaps Altair wasn't willing to leave, but Shaun was unwilling to let him stay unless he helped him find whatever book he had the pirates looking for.

"If I help you, he's coming with me."

He watched as Shaun's eyes lit up, whether with anger or excitement he didn't know, and that curl of his lips suddenly turned into something darker.

"Of _course_," the man hissed. "I would dream of nothing else."

Desmond fled back to his room, pushing the bureau and furniture in front of his door. He curled up under the blankets, hugging a pillow. He didn't respond when he heard Altair knocking at the door, and he didn't respond when the maid called him for dinner. He remained curled with the smell of _Alex_ around him, until he didn't know when, when he heard the door being pushed open.

"What the hell did he put in front of this?"

He jolted, looking at the door.

"Desmond! Move this shit!"

That was Alex's voice. Without a second thought, he pulled the furniture away from the door and watched as it opened. Alex was standing there, a scowl on his face and looking just a little bit ragged, and before he knew what he was doing, he was hugging the man.

"Desmond?"

He felt a tentative arm wrap around him. He simply hugged tighter. He hoped the man wouldn't kill him. He hoped that Alex would, instead, protect him (from both Shaun and Altair).

"Desmond? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Alex."

He let himself be navigated back onto the bed, and he curled against him. He sighed, pressing his nose against his shirt and inhaling deeply. The man _reeked_ of sweat, the sky, and someplace far away.

"Desmond?"

It took a little more coaxing before he told Alex everything, including what he had overheard, and how he had slept with Shaun, and how he was horribly confused because Shaun didn't _seem_ as if he had ill-will toward Desmond but simply wanted to help him. By the time he was done, he could feel the tenseness in Alex, and he knew he was going to die. He had overstepped the boundaries. There was silence, and for once, Desmond hated the silence.

Then Alex did something unexpected: he kissed the top of his head, hugging him tightly. "I won't let him hurt you, Desmond."

He heaved a sigh of relief.

"Why don't you come with me to dinner, since you haven't eaten in two days?"

"I…"

He yelped when Alex scooped him up and carried him into the dining room. Everyone was there, and Rebecca cheered mightily when he appeared.

"Des! Long time, no see!"

"Desmond!" Pariah screamed, and Kadar laughed. "More books!"

He grinned, climbing down from Alex's arms and walking over to the table. He sat next to Alex, across from Pariah, and he laughed when the boy squirmed.

"More books, right?"

"Of course," he said, and he noticed that Shaun wasn't at the table, and neither was Gilberto nor Altair.

He chose not to press it. He chattered merrily with the pirates until he felt Altair enter, and he looked, smiling at him. Altair's eyes met Alex's, and he thought for just a moment that the world would explode.

"So, you do still live."

Altair tensed, his gaze snapping to Malik. "M-Malik?"

"None other, idiot."

"I thought you had died—"

"I didn't—thanks to Shaun and my brother. Figures when you said 'I love you,' the entire damn ship blew up."

Altair frowned as he slid into a seat on the other side of Desmond. He couldn't help but grin, hoping that maybe it would turn out so that they would hook up. Come to think of it, Malik had said that Altair was in love with him. He watched them curiously, distracted only when he felt a hand on his lower back. He turned to see Alex looking at him, concerned, and he smiled.

"I missed you."

Alex smirked. "I know. I missed you, too."

Desmond grinned, turning his attention back to Pariah and the others as he kept half an eye on his older brother and Malik. By the time they were done, he didn't even have a chance to wish his brother good night before Alex was dragging him back to their room, and he was melting under familiar kisses and touches. By the time Alex was satisfied, Desmond had been milked dry and was sprawled out underneath his lover, breathing heavily. Alex was asleep, and Desmond was so tempted to, but he hadn't seen Shaun in several days. He hadn't been at dinner, and he was curious to know what was going on. He was also curious to see how Malik and Altair were doing. Still, he mused as he closed his eyes, just a few minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt.

When he woke, he was sore as hell. Sure, he thought, he didn't mind it. He liked the pain—the ever-present reminder of what happen last night—and he grinned as he thought about it. Yes, he surmised, he _loved_ Alex. But, he was dying to see how the others were doing. He wanted to know about Altair and Malik. He stirred, slowly and ineffectively trying to pry himself from Alex's grip. The man eventually growled, opening one eye and staring at him.

"I want to go visit my brother."

Alex growled again and tightened his grip. Desmond flinched as pain raced up his back.

"Please, Alex? I want to see if he and Malik are back together!"

"Why—"

"'Cause they were lovers before Malik's explosion!"

Alex was examining his eyes, a sleepy look dampening the effect of the glare that was shooting his way. Eventually, Alex huffed and let go, settling back down. Desmond grinned and pulled on (Alex's) clothes, walking out into the hallway and wandering down toward Altair's room.

"No, I swear I don't."

He paused mid-step.

"Are you sure? He isn't to be found since the pirates returned."

He looked around for the source of the two voices. He followed his gut until he found himself hiding behind a wall as two maids spoke.

"Perhaps it was the book he was looking for?"

"Did you not hear the yelling last night? I highly doubt it."

"Perhaps we should ask that young man he's taken a shining to."

"Him? Oh! That might be a good idea—I heard the master showed him to the locked rooms."

Desmond frowned, slipping off. He wondered what was wrong with Shaun. It was a good thing he had been so exhausted last night, he thought as he crept, ignoring the pain. He swiped a metal pick from Rebecca's room—some sort of tool for keeping the _Blacklight_ running. He slipped through the hallways, avoiding Cross and Greene just barely as he slipped through the passages to the room where Shaun kept the portrait. He picked the lock on the door easily and slipped inside.

Shaun was there, he first noticed as he hid among the clutter on the sides. He was hunched over, the book, undoubtedly, that the pirates had gotten ripped and mangled at his feet as if he had a fit of panic, then anger. The portrait case was open, and Shaun was staring at his feet.

"Outsmarted, again."

Desmond hunkered down, waiting through the silence.

"Damn you—damn you to hell, you damn fucking bastard!"

Shaun was on his feet, waving the cane as he stepped on the book, twisting his foot and tearing the pages.

"It's a good thing you're _dead_," he hissed, his eyes glinting dangerously, "or I'd fucking turn you into my bed sheet! Lovely thought, isn't it?"

He slammed the end of the cane against the floor.

"Blood had never tasted so sweet."

Then, all anger seemed to dissolve from him, and he smirked, crossing his arms.

"But, you see, I now have not only my pirates, but La Volpe working for me. Nothing stays hidden from that man. Curse me all you like, bastard, for loving and leaving, but you can't stop me from finding that book. I've outsmarted you yet again."

He squirmed a little—this hiding spot was uncomfortable.

"You see, good sir, I have the world's best tracker on my team now."

He paced over to the portrait and smashed the head of his cane against the glass, grinning like a devil.

"And I have one more wild card _you_ can't get to."

Shaun was laughing, pacing back over and stabbing the cane through the entire book. Eventually, his wild laughter subsided into a soft chuckle, and Shaun threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.

"That's right," he murmured. "Ever just as sharp as you were fourteen hundred years ago. _Desmond_. And you can't do a single thing about it, because it's honest-to-God _love_ he has for me, and the Empire cannot touch him."

By now, Desmond was hopelessly confused. He was curious if he was hearing the voices of some long-dead guy. Shaun spun around, pointing at the painting, walking toward it like a predator.

"And even if everything goes to _shit_ on this next mission, _Desmond_—bless the boy's soul—will still be able to regal _everything_ to me. He's an innocent civilian."

He was poking at the painting.

"And once I'm free of this—this! Your horrible restraint! This disgusting painting! _I'll_ _wipe you from every book I have_."

So Shaun was trying to break his painting curse. Desmond couldn't help but wonder why.

"You've had a good run, Robert, luring that stupid artist and taking advantage of my vanity, but I'm not dumb. This painting is holding me back. Just wait until I'm free of it."

He watched as Shaun laughed, once, and paced to the door after pulling out his cane.

"Yes, Robert, I may have been stupid enough to sleep with you back then and take you up on your offer at immortality, but now I've got my own agenda—and this painting is causing me only grief."

He waited until he heard Shaun walk down the hallway, leaving the door open and storming off. He stepped out of his hiding spot, walking over to the painting. He was curious to know how he played into this, and just why he was claiming the painting had cursed him. He didn't know who Robert was, or why Robert cursed Shaun, but it must have had something to with the painting. He frowned, reaching out and touching it lightly. The glass was cool beneath his touch, and he studied it.

"Uncover the eyes, please," he murmured, watching as the blindfold was removed from the painting.

The eyes looked furious, and slightly smug, and he frowned. He wanted to know who Shaun had been talking to.

"Cover the eyes, please," he murmured as he walked over to the book, looking at the torn and rumpled pages.

He turned the pages carefully. He had heard of books like this one—cult magic. According to Shaun, it had been popular at the outset of tensions between the nations. Some of these spells looked interesting, but he had other things to store in his mind, and the spells were forgotten almost as quickly as he looked at them.

"How much of that did you hear?"

He yelped, looking up to see Shaun staring at him over the rim of his glasses, and he shrank back. Shaun was walking toward him slowly, and he knew he was in deep shit now. Perhaps he should have remembered some of the spells.

"Well?" he growled.

"I—I—"

He was going to die. He was sure of it. He was going to kick the bucket. Death by cane through the heart.

"Your curiosity is going to get you killed one day, _boy_."

He knew he should fight back, but his only chance at killing Shaun was through the painting, and he had smashed the head of the cane against the glass, and there were no marks on it. He could yell, but what could the others do save for get to him after he's dead. Shaun stopped, both hands on his cane, stance rigid as he stared at him. There was nothing scarier than this man right then.

"Well?"

"I—I—who's Robert?"

Shaun frowned, his eyes narrowing, and Desmond could feel him analyzing him.

"A-and wh-why am I impor-important? Your-r miss-ssion? W-what are you—c-cult ma-magic-c?"

Shaun inhaled deeply, tilting his head back and pressing his lips into a thin line. "So you heard most of it, then."

He pressed back against the wall. His gut had tried to warn him when he overlooked it in favor of the praise from that night in the library with Altair and Gilberto. He swallowed, watching as the man stood there, unmoving, watching. Finally, he had come to whatever conclusion he was thinking about, and Shaun huffed, adjusting his grip on the cane and gesturing toward the painting.

"Robert Sable was the man who commissioned it. He was the first man I slept with—offered me riches in exchange. He hired a man by the name of Leonardo, rest his soul. Painted it, got paid, and left. Robert was big into cult magic, and he offered to make me immortal. I took him up on the offer. He hid the book, but I didn't think twice about it. He caught me sleeping with another woman to pick her pocket as well."

Shaun snorted, looking at the painting, planting his cane in the book of spells as he stepped toward it. Desmond started creeping closer, his heart pounding. He froze under the look Shaun sent his way.

"Then, when the Third World War hit, I realized how much of a burden the painting was and hid it to protect it. After it was over, I decided it was time to start collecting the cult books Robert used to try to sever myself from the painting. Haven't had any luck."

"Why not?"

Shaun tensed, hissing, "Because of the Empire."

Desmond moved over cautiously to the cane—a weapon to defend himself.

"I've been tracking down his cult books that he hid so well—none of them correct!"

"And the Empire?"

"Yes," Shaun said, "ask the pirates. They've not had the most successful life." Shaun snarled.

"Why keep them under contract then?"

"Do you honestly they'd work for me otherwise? They could be doing anything they wish. Once I'm safe enough, I'll stage a coup d'état and get rid of the last thing in my way."

"Wait…"

"I think the Empire is hiding that book with the spell. If I can get rid of them, I can free myself."

"But what about the rest of us? We need the Empire to—"

"Desmond," Shaun snipped, turning around rapidly and facing him. "I'm about to tell you something extraordinarily serious, here."

He gave him a cautious look, stepping a little closer with his hands wrapped tightly around the cane. Shaun met his gaze.

"The Empire was designed to keep me in check."

He blinked, giving him a confused look. "But… You control it."

"That's what I believed, as well. I thought there was nothing—nothing save the painting, of course. However, I've scoured the entire earth for the one book I need, and I have been unable to find it. Robert's descendant was the first ruler of the Empire, and I realized I've been tricked. He didn't hide the book so well as I thought he did. It's hidden somewhere in the Empire's main castle, and even my spies haven't been able to find it."

Desmond pursed his lips. "So… I still don't get it."

Shaun sighed. "I won't be able to free myself from this painting until I get that spell. If the Empire has it, then it doesn't matter that I'm in charge. Robert's been hiding it from me in plain sight for hundreds of years. The Empire was meant to protect the spell book, which is what prevents me from doing anything too risky because I'm still attached to that painting."

Desmond watched him as he walked over to the book and nudged it. He was going to have to think on this. This was a lot of information to process.

"Why… why does it matter if you're attached to the painting or not?"

"Think of it this way, Desmond," Shaun said.

He watched as the man picked up the remnants of the book and tucked it under his arm. He followed the man out, watching him as he jammed the door shut to ensure no one would get in.

"Immortal or not, I'm tied to that painting. I don't want to continue worrying about a painting. I want to worry about myself."

Desmond was quiet for a few minutes as they walked back to the main part of the house, then he started nodding.

"Yeah, I get it," he murmured.

"Good. However, Desmond…"

He looked at him. Shaun seemed so much more relaxed now that his rant was out of the way.

"Don't tell a soul about this."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Don't worry. 'Sides, what good would it do me?"

Shaun chuckled. "No good for either of us, rest assured."

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think? Still any good?<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

He shoved his hands in his pockets, following Shaun into the dining room. The other pirates were already there, and when they entered, the room fell silent. Shaun straightened, set his shoulders, and walked to his seat, Desmond following more like a lost puppy. He slid in beside Alex, and as Shaun folded his hands, looking out at the pirates with that scrutinizing stare, the chatter started to return, until Desmond found himself in Alex's lap in the library, looking at maps and drawings of the Empire's castle. He found them fascinating (Shaun had promised him that they would be), and he stored them away for if he ever got to go to the Empire so that he could compare the older drawings. He thought it was fascinating how the building had been built on a swamp, and it has stayed for so long.

He spent almost a week buried in books Shaun recommended, ignoring the others. He didn't mean to ignore Altair outside of their training sessions (he actually could hold his own against Altair. He was proud), but he couldn't wait to finish the books in the library. He filed away all the facts and pictures, reading happily in his chair by the fireplace. Meals were a wonderful time, full of loud talking and cheerful story-swapping, and Desmond couldn't help but wonder why Malik and Altair still seemed as if they weren't going to get back together.

Of course, then at the end of the week, Shaun came in for dinner, throwing the doors open and almost glowing with eager greed and pride. Gilberto paced silently behind him, slipping into the seat beside Altair. Shaun sat down and smiled warmly at them all, cane in hand.

"I have your next assignment, thanks to Gilberto."

The entire hall was silent, and Desmond was watching eagerly. Shaun's happy aura changed into something much darker, and he pulled back slightly when those eyes landed on him.

"And this time, _all_ of you will go."

His eyes grew wider. He couldn't believe he was going to get to go on a mission. He could feel Alex's hand in his tighten, hear the soft growl coming from Altair, but he was captured by the wicked promise Shaun's eyes had. He could see them go from dark to satisfied, then the man leaned back, folding one leg over the other and resting his hands in his lap, looking over the pirates.

"And this time, boys, our mission will come to a close."

"That's what you said last time," Malik growled.

"I said _if_. I didn't know for certain."

"And just what is it?" Cross asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shaun chuckled breathlessly. "This time, you find the book within the walls of the Empire. It's there or nowhere."

"And where is it?" Altair asked, looking to Gilberto.

"He doesn't know. All he knows that it _is_ within castle walls. Find it, bring it back, and our contracts are over."

The table was silent, and remained silent, until they started leaving.

"Desmond, I must speak with you in private."

Desmond jerked, looking at him surprised, but nodded. Alex hesitated about leaving him alone, until Altair nodded for him to come along, and it was just the two of them in the dining hall. Once the door closed, he looked at Shaun, who inhaled deeply and rose with a smile.

"Come. Let's go for a walk."

He took Desmond down through the servants' passageways and out into the streets, where they walked along the cobblestone roads until they hit the small café they had gone to so many times. Shaun seemed perky and happy all of a sudden as he ordered two of the frozen treats. Once they were served, Shaun leaned forward.

"Desmond, I need you do an extraordinarily important different mission for me."

He tilted his head, his stomach twisting as he took a bite of the tasty frozen treat.

"I need you to outsmart the men who have been outsmarting me."

He jerked, swallowing wrong and choking on the treat. He pounded on his chest as he started coughing. He held a fist to his mouth to keep it from spewing as he continued to cough. When he finally swallowed and gasped for breath, he managed to look at Shaun.

"W-what?" he breathed.

"You don't honestly think I just gave you those maps for your reading leisure, do you? Desmond, think rationally here."

He blinked. He had found the maps and the pictures fascinating, he mused as he pulled up all the pictures he had stored away. Of course everything Shaun did had a second purpose. Of course that's why Shaun would want Desmond to go. He blinked again, staring at the man, who was resting his chin in his hand and watching him carefully.

"Y-yeah, but why me?"

"Because I know your brother. He's not going to let you anywhere near the castle. But that's okay, because the book I need _isn't there._"

"Then where is it?" Desmond questioned, frowning.

"I don't know," Shaun hissed. "And _that's_ what I need you to find out. It's nearby, but that's all I know."

Desmond was silent, watching Shaun carefully. He could feel his gaze boring into him, and he had to admit that he was slightly unnerved with being given such a huge task.

"Why me?"

"Because, Desmond," Shaun sighed, as if he was just supposed to know why, "you are, quite possibly, one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. And I do believe that this mission will open up so manydifferent paths for you, Desmond. I believe that this will give you more options in your life than Altair or Gilberto ever could."

Desmond leaned back in his chair, quietly eating the sweet treat and observing the man. Shaun sighed, adjusting the cane at his side and leaning back carefully, stiffly, and fixing him with a scrutinizing look.

"I'm fully prepared to fund you for whatever you need, and I am fully prepared to fund you in the development of whatever job route you choose to take. There will be no contract necessary, just know that every expense you have, from here until the end of your days, will be covered—_if you succeed._"

Desmond straightened slightly and quirked an eyebrow. That was a good deal. "And you want this book why?"

"Because then I don't have to worry about a _picture_ being the deciding factor in my life. All I must worry about is myself_._"

Desmond studied him. There was no telling what the real reason was, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. "So…"

"Let me sum it up: you get me the book, and I back you one-hundred percent on whatever it is you want for the rest of your life."

"And the others?"

"They'll get their contracts broken."

"And there's no contract?"

"None whatsoever, unless you want one."

"Not yet."

Shaun chuckled. "Not yet?"

Desmond frowned. "I'm going to have to talk to—"

"No, you don't. This is not Altair's decision, Desmond, nor is it Alex's. It's yours. You can either accept or reject my proposition, but I think you're going to accept—and _not_ because of what I promised you either."

He cursed the man internally, hating how he could see right through him. Of course he would do it, reward or not, because Desmond was _dying_ to read that spell book. He wanted to know what happened in that spell book ever since he mentioned it. He frowned, looking at Shaun.

"You're dying to see it. And what makes it even more appealing to you is that you know, subconsciously or not, that there is _no one else_ who's gotten to see it still alive today."

He couldn't help but swallow. He couldn't believe that he was really so open in his expressions—or perhaps Shaun was just good at reading people. He took another bite of the frozen treat, and the other man smirked, relaxing in the chair.

"Anyway, take your time. They won't leave until you've decided what you want to do."

"But you said we _all_ have to go. So I have to."

"Desmond, you have been given more privilege than any of the others. None of them would be surprised if I changed my mind and kept you here."

"But in the library, you told Altair—"

"Altair is a pawn. What I say and what I do are two different things. This decision is up to you. Think it over carefully, Desmond."

He sat there and watched the man carefully as he finished the frozen cream. He did really want to see the book. He wanted it almost as bad as before this whole adventure began and he wanted to meet Zeus. Now, he was being given that chance. Of course, he had to work for it, but there was nothing to stop him. Not when he had Shaun's backing and whatever he could need. But the question was if he could actually do it—if he was actually smart enough to outwit the people who bested the best. When he was done with the treat, Shaun raised an eyebrow. Desmond inhaled deeply.

"I'll do it."

"Excellent," the man purred. "I knew you would. You're good man, Desmond. Now then, just tell me what you might need, and I'll have it for you by the time you leave. And you'll have to come with me: you're going to need a weapon."

"Where will we get one?"

"Back at the house. I store them in the cellar."

Desmond blinked. "You have a cellar?"

Shaun rolled his eyes. "Yes, Desmond, I do."

"Just how much of the house haven't I seen?"

"Just the cellar."

"Just the cellar," he deadpanned.

"And the rooms connected to it."

Desmond's eyes narrowed as Shaun rose, stretching. "No secret tunnels?"

"None that I'm willing to share yet."

Desmond blinked before getting up to follow him. His curiosity was peaked—and then he realized just how easily he was being played. If this was what Shaun did for a living, he did it damn good. He played Desmond's curiosity and now he knew that he couldn't leave until he was completely satisfied with everything Shaun had. He was being lured in little by little, and he was completely powerless. Of course there were tunnels, and of course Shaun didn't want to share them yet because that meant that he would _have_ to return to see them later.

And of course Altair wouldn't let him near the castle because infiltrating a castle was beyond his league. But if the book wasn't in the castle, then that would mean that the others would provide a distraction for him while he tried to figure out where it was. Which meant that the Empire probably already knew they were coming, which would mean that they would be putting up a strong line of defense underhandedly, and that meant that they would be dropped off on the outskirts of the Empire. Desmond frowned. Oh, Shaun had played his cards well. He knew how to lead people to believe in things they didn't want to.

But just how that tied into the painting and the spell book is what Desmond wanted to know. Still, he followed the man up to the room with the painting, and from _nowhere_ produced a door in the wall, and led him down a dark stairway to another door, and then the door was open and there was a flood of light.

Desmond had never seen so many different weapons. There were walls and shelves and display cases _packed_ with different swords and knives. There were all kinds of guns he never even imagined existed sitting there, untouched for who knows how long. He was floored. Shaun led him through the maze of weaponry to a small case near the far back corner. The case was lit with the same light as the picture case. It was filled with hand-sized contraptions that looked vaguely like the rifles the military used.

"What are these?"

"Advanced guns from the time before this. I collected them and had every intention of distributing, but thankfully, I caught myself and hid them."

"Thankfully?"

Shaun sighed as he reached into one of the cases. "Yes, Desmond, it was weapons that brought about the first apocalypse, and it's weapons that will bring about the second. Mark my words: hinder them now, and you're buying time until a group of scientists makes a new weapon and 'Oopsies! You mean, we _weren't_ supposed to test out that weapon on our enemy?'"

The man held up the nasty-looking creation, examining it.

"And by then everyone will be screaming to stop, but the rulers won't care. Hell, it's _war_, and armies are their toys! They don't honestly care for their people. They'll promise you the sun and the stars, which, mind you, are more than one lifetime away from the earth, just to get into their position and protect their asses!"

The man made a disgusted noise, lowering the gun and holding it out. "Brutish, nasty lot, the whole bunch of them. Here. Let me show you how to shoot. Follow me."

He followed the man through another door hidden behind a rack of nasty looking clubs to a room with long stalls. He listened carefully as Shaun instructed him on how to use the machine gun, which sounded a little redundant to Desmond, but then again, it might have made sense way back then. He picked it up in no time, and Shaun was proud of him. It was almost hard to tell, but that glimmer in his eye and that arch in his back, those were the signs of pride. He grinned, watching as Shaun taught him how to carry the extra ammunition and then took him back out to his room through the servants' corridors. He popped out next to the fireplace, not realizing there had been a door there it blended in so well with the wall. Of course, if it was supposed to hide the presence of the maids, it did a damn good job.

He hid the weapon and the ammunition as best as he could and threw together a small bag for the trip. He was going to go, and he was going to succeed because _damnitall_ he was better than Altair realized. He was going to prove his worth to La Volpe, and he _wasn't_ going to let Shaun down. Not when Shaun had him backed against the wall, warm lips pressed against his in a slow kiss and hands smoothed, feather-light, over his chest and stomach. Not when Shaun was telling him how smart and wonderful he was in between kisses and the press of warm, gloved hands against his skin. No, he couldn't let Shaun down, because as much as he loved Alex, Shaun was just…

"Shaun," he breathed when the man backed away, looking a little disheveled and slightly out of breath.

The man adjusted his glasses, calmed his breathing, and lightly smacked Desmond's foot with the end of his cane. "Now, it's best we stop before that beast catches us."

He swallowed thickly and followed him out into the library. He settled down in a chair, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He wanted to say he hated Shaun and give up on this adventure, but Shaun was playing him and his emotions in all the right ways, and that was absolutely okay by him. He jumped when several scrolls were dumped in his lap, and he looked to see Shaun looming over him, frowning.

"Maps. Present and past. There's a few journals somewhere in there. Do with them as you see fit. If you need anything else, just let me know."

He nodded, settling down to skim them. Halfway through, he got distracted as Altair came in, talking in hushed tones with Malik. There was no bite to his words, he noticed, listening in.

"I don't plan on letting Desmond come with. He's human."

"The way I see it is one of two ways, then," Malik murmured back. "Either Shaun is planning something outside of our mission for your fledgling, or else he's making sure he gets roped in by having him memorize all those maps."

"Or else he's trying to force me to contract him so he won't die."

Malik was quiet as they settled on a couch a ways off. They sent a quick glance to Shaun, who was reading by the fire, ignoring them. Altair saw Desmond, but Desmond was sure he looked much too engrossed in the map he was looking over of the swampland surrounding the kingdom. He saw all the gravestones marked down, the trees and the stumps—it was incredible.

"I hadn't thought of that," the man murmured as he settled in Altair's lap as they stretched out on the couch. "Congratulations, novice. You one-upped me."

Altair scoffed quietly. "It's just easiest to see all the possibilities."

"The one that really stumps me, though," Malik said, his voice dropping even lower and making Desmond's head begin to hurt with the amount of concentration he needed to listen in, "is _why_ Shaun is keeping Desmond around uncontracted. Or you, for that matter. As a matter of fact, his actions have seemed much more out of place ever since we picked Desmond up."

"What is he planning, do you think?"

"I have no idea, Altair. I haven't seen where the two vanish to together. There's no telling what Shaun does to him."

"You don't think it's anything bad, do you?"

"Undoubtedly not, otherwise, either you or Alex would have heard of it by now."

"You don't think he's trying to win Desmond over, do you?"

"What good would that do him?"

Altair was quiet for several minutes. "I… don't know…"

"You don't think he's actually…"

"No, there's no way. Not with a man like him. We're just not thinking like a criminal mastermind enough. His plans will reach their culmination soon."

"So it's a race to the finish now. We have to beat Shaun before Shaun beats Desmond."

"Exactly."

They fell silent after that, and Desmond turned back to his maps. His gut was telling him he had no reason to worry, but the apprehension that settled in his stomach and heart made him nervous. He wanted to know just what was going on. After a while, he sighed, setting the map down after realizing there was nothing more he could focus on, and he looked at Shaun as he read. He was going to need something to carry these in, and preferably something to wade around the swamps in.

"Hey, Shaun?"

The man responded with a hum and a quick side-flick of the eyes.

"Can I have a pack of some sort to carry these maps in?"

"Of course, how big?"

"I don't care. Big enough to store these in."

"Consider it done."

The man closed his book and walked a few paces away.

"Is there anything else you might need?"

"Something for swamp exploration."

Shaun nodded and vanished. Desmond smiled at Altair before turning back to the maps, hoping he could lure them into speaking again.

"He's definitely got a side mission for your fledgling."

"I can't take him with me, though. Not unless he's under contract."

"But you aren't going to let him be contracted."

"Never."

"Then there's no telling what the mission could be."

There was silence for a little bit. "But what if this is him trying to get me to contract him?"

"Don't go there, Altair."

"What if it's all a game of mental mindfuck, like everything else he does?"

"I said, 'Don't go there.'"

"He's making me second guess. He's going to drive me crazy."

Desmond frowned. He had a mission, damnit. He sprawled out in the chair, his shirt hitching up as he scratched his belly and flopped over it. When Shaun came out with the pack, Desmond grunted a "Thanks" and packed it all away before going back to his room. He was absolutely exhausted, and as Alex grabbed him and pulled him onto the bed, he was glad he didn't have to think, just enjoy the feeling of Alex pounding into him and the lazy coil of lust that never seemed to go away when he was around the man.

Still, two days later, he found himself in Shaun's private rooms as the man instructed him how to put on and take off the thing he called a wet suit and some really big pants that tucked a certain way into big boots to keep him dry and protect him from leeches. He slipped his pants and shirt on over the wet suit, in no mood to take it off a fifth time, and stuffed everything else into a large bag Shaun gave him to keep all the gear in. He threw it into his room on the _Blacklight_ and came back out to get some extra pocket change. Everyone else was watching the exchange closely, out of the corner of their eye or what have them, but Desmond chose to ignore it in favor of catching the pouch of money.

"Will that be enough?"

"I would think so. For inns overnight, right?"

"Precisely—for you, Kadar, and Pariah _only_."

"Got it."

He looked back up at Shaun and nodded. He hugged Shaun goodbye, pleased to feel an arm around him in return and the exhale of the man's breath on his neck. He straightened out, swallowed, then tucked the money into his pocket, nodding to himself, because he _could_ do this, and this was _his _chance to shine. He'd wanted his own moment in the spotlight forever now, a chance to become a sky pirate—to steal, to fight, to be something other than the crazy kid who lived down the street.

This was his chance—and he'd sooner die before he'd let the limelight be stolen.

After he boarded the ship, he watched as it took off into the sky and began its journey to the heart of the Empire. He waved goodbye to Shaun, who was watching with his back straight and his eyes glued on Desmond. He could feel Alex move beside him, and he could feel him watching him as he stared out the window. There was a tense silence, and he knew in his gut he was going to get questioned eventually. Still, he pushed it aside to enjoy the passing scenery, wondering what it felt like to have the wind whip around him.

"Desmond…"

Oh, here it came.

"You realize we care about you, right?"

Desmond hummed nonchalantly. "Yup. I'm glad, too, 'cause I've got the best family to support me and my decisions."

Alex was quiet for a moment, and Desmond inhaled sharply as he watched a farmer plowing his fields. Then, he heard Alex step away, down the hallway to the engine room, and he was content to stand there, watching, until the sun went down and the stars were out. He looked when he felt a soft tug on his wrist and saw Alex standing there, and he grinned, letting him be led into the bedroom and cuddled with on the bed. While it was strange that he wasn't being stripped and turned into a slut, Desmond did find it enjoyable that he was doing nothing more than cuddling. He stretched out along Alex and closed his eyes.

When he woke, he realized that these beds weren't nearly as comfortable as the beds at Shaun's house. He grunted as he stretched, and he could feel Alex alongside him, one arm over his waist and the virus itself slowly wrapping around him. He squirmed a little bit, and he heard Alex chuckle. He rolled on his back to look at him, and those icy eyes were staring straight at him. He smiled sleepily and yawned before stretching again. He yelped when he felt the water suit snapped against his skin.

"What is this?"

"It's a wet suit. I'm going swamp exploring. Shaun said I could."

Alex hummed, and Desmond shivered as a tendril slid over his side. "I don't like the idea of you going into the swamps behind the castle."

"Why not? Shaun said that they hadn't changed—even after a hundred years of travelling."

Alex hummed, pressing his lips to his ear. "I don't like you walking in those swamps."

"Why not?"

"There could be some—"

"I can defend myself."

He wanted to glare at Alex, but the way he was pressed against him and the way he was murmuring in his hear made it hard.

"Desmond, you know that I'm just looking out for you."

* * *

><p><strong>I swear, honest to God, this isn't dead. I'm not dead. I'm just... slowly down considerably. I'm sorry.<strong>


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